


Rogue Z

by bealeciphers



Category: The Flash (Comics), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Additional Warnings in Chapter Notes, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Original Character Death(s), The Rogues Gallery, WIP, Zombie AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 22:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 48
Words: 278,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3706529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bealeciphers/pseuds/bealeciphers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two months after a mysterious villain started the zombie apocalypse and all of North America has been trapped in an unnaturally cold winter, the Flash has been forced to travel with Captain Cold, Golden Glider, and Heatwave to make it back to Central City and find his friends and family.</p><p>{Midseason 1 canon with an integration of some comic book plotlines and characters.}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 300 miles from Central City

**Author's Note:**

> This is partly inspired by The Walking Dead Game; the canon is based off of the Flash CW tv series.

_**Barry Allen:** “You're saying I wanted to be tricked.” _

_**Detective Joe West:** “You always want to be the person who sees the best in people. I've been a cop for 25 years. All I can see is the flaws, the lies, the dark thoughts that people think I don't see. I wish I could be you. As fast as you are, that is your real power.” _

West Turnpike, Indiana; 300 miles from Central City 

“I’m leaving. I am going to jump out of this car and go to Central City on my own.” Barry glared from the shotgun seat of the van, his eyes fixed on the dark and highly annoying black span of Leonard Snart’s sunglasses. The man had been wearing the sunglasses for three days. Granted, Leonard, or _Cold,_ was always the one driving and it was bright as hell in the day from all of the snow covering the roads and trees, but it was still unnerving to go so long without seeing a man’s eyes.

The van they were in reminded Barry of _Stranger Danger_ ; it was the kind of van a man with ‘candy’ would use to approach kids. A front and back seat, tons of space in the back. Though the back of the van had a mattress and a tiny amount of floorspace, it was mostly full with boxes of food and wood.

It was cramped in the van; and the mileage was Sisyphean. They stopped every four hours to fill the gas tank with some of the gas stored in the small trunk under the floorboards; and every other day the four survivors had to make a venture off to a gas station to refill.

They’d tried going without the van’s air heating so they could spare some gas, but that hadn’t lasted 3 hours before everyone but Cold was complaining nonstop. It was midwinter, probably February, and the weather had been below freezing for almost three weeks straight.

It was unnaturally artic.

The van reminded Barry a bit of a college dorm… in terms of the mess, the mattress with blankets thrown about, plus empty beer and peanut butter cans. Although, no college dorm would have the three, futuristic guns resting in a perch on the side of the van. The guns were on display and ready to be used at a moment’s notice.

Cold had one hand on the wheel and the other lying across the back of Barry’s seat. He was a confident asshole who took every chance to get in Barry’s personal space. “You’re going to run three hundred miles in below freezing weather, _Barry,”_ Cold never wasted an opportunity to say Barry’s name, not since he’d found out, “did you forget that the only reason you’re alive is your bright red suit, Mick’s fire, and my stunning compassion?”

Lisa Snart lay on the mattress in the back of the van, wrapped in six blankets and reading a large book on the history of transmutation. It was obviously not her choice; Cold never wasted an opportunity to ‘give homework’ to Lisa and Mick regarding their powers. Mick was snoring on the floor beside her, an empty six pack of Guinesses at his side and a constant twitch along his back that Barry kept being distracted by in the mirror. Cold drove, because Cold always drove (although he occasionally allowed Lisa and only Lisa to), and he had his arm draped across the back of Barry’s set in this possessive gesture that made Barry uncomfortable.

Lots of things Cold did made Barry uncomfortable. Primarily how it was _Lisa, Mick, Barry,_ and _Cold,_ as if _Leonard_ the name had never existed. Barry wasn’t sure if this made Cold a douche or a nerd; but unless they were out carrying guns and in full fighting gear, no one but Captain Cold went by their costume-names.

Barry wore his Flash clothes, with a large, black long-sleeve shirt over top and a huge, maroon sweatshirt saying “ _Franklin Sports_ ” over that. He had construction boots, which were currently thrown under his seat, but which he wore every time he was forced to walk outside. He’d nearly lost toes the last time he’d gone outside without them. He looked dumb… a skinny guy in a giant sweatshirt and shoes two sizes too big. Mick looked just as uncomfortable in the cold, at least, though Lisa seemed to just exude poise and grace and Cold looked like a trained artic explorer confidently voyaging across the devil’s dancefloor glacier.

“You didn’t save me out of compassion, Cold. I’m not an idiot so don’t treat me like one.” Barry turned to look out the window. Bright, bright, white snow; it covered everything, if the van didn’t have chains along the tires they wouldn’t have even been moving.

Even though the moving they were doing was a snail’s pace.

“That’s true,” Cold said in his typical low, sardonic tone. Which happened to be the way he always seemed to talk- Barry had originally thought that was just the man’s ‘supervillain’ voice. “I saved you because I knew you’d have to stick with us and you wouldn’t let us die if we did get attacked, every undead survival team needs a _runner,_ and I am full of compassion. The opportunity was rather fateful, don’t you think? You just _happened_ to be freezing to death on a highway in Indiana and my gallery of Rogues just _happened_ to be on our way to our safehouse in Indiana.”

“Your safehouse wasn’t safe.”

Cold shrugged. “I can’t control where the undead happen to hoard, can I?”

“I’m just saying, it had two purposes and really failed at the whole ‘being safe’ thing.”

“And we’re on our way to Central City so I don’t see why you’re starting back up with your empty threats to leave, Barry.” Cold lifted his arm from the back of Barry’s chair for just a moment to adjust his sunglasses, and then it was right back again, resting on Barry’s headrest like they were twelve years old on a date at a movie theater.

“Because I know what you’re thinking. You heard the message in the radio, same as me.” Barry said, referencing to something that had come up last night when Lisa had been running through the radio channels like she always did. Lisa played with the radio each night to try and catch a signal from any survivors in the area, which Barry had privately thought was futile but Cold had encouraged for some reason. Lisa had been right, strangely, and a clear signal had rung out.

“ _WELCOME, ALL YOU LIVING HUMANS OUT THERE_ ,” an obnoxiously chipper voice had called out, “ _IF YOU’RE ALIVE AND HEADING UP THE WEST TURNPIKE, TAKE A STOP IN FRYOAK, INDIANA. WE’RE JUST A COLLECTION OF SURVIVORS MEETING TO TRADE, MEET OTHER SURVIVORS, AND RECONNECT WITH HUMAN KIND IN A SAFE ENVIRONMENT. IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING VALUABLE, IF YOU’RE MISSING THE SIGHT OF HUMAN FLESH THAT ISN’T GREY AND DECAYING, COME TO FRYOAK, INDIANA AT THE HOME DEPOT. GET SOME FOOD, DRINK SOME BEER, FIND A CARAVAN TO TRAVEL WITH. WELCOME, ALL YOU LIVING HUMANS_ -“ the message repeated ad infinitum.

“It’s hardly out of the way. Less than 40 miles. We do need something to eat besides tofu and creamed corn, I think you agree; since you eat like a maniac.” Cold looked at Barry, a bit of a sly frown across his face. “Honestly, I have no idea where all that food goes.”

“I run, but seriously, I know what you’re thinking,” Barry returned Cold’s look.

“Oh? You can mind-read now?”

Barry knew that Cold was just toying with him, playing around the main point until Barry finally said it directly. “You’re going to go and steal from the other survivors.”

Cold chuckled as he turned his eyes back to the road. “Obviously.”

“Well we _aren’t_ going to. I will leave, and you need me.”

“If you insist you _aren’t_ stupid, Barry, than I think you’ve noticed our situation isn’t the best. We were snowed in for three days last week, and the safehouse was emptied of anything we could use. We need supplies.”

“Then we trade for supplies. We can’t steal from other survivors, they need it just as bad as we do.”

 _Captain Cold, Heat Wave, and Golden Glider. Criminals_. Criminals that had tried to kill Barry more than once; and yet when the _N DEVICE_ had gone off and everyone touched by the Mysterious Man in the Black Cloak had turned into…. into _zombies,_ and killed others and turned _them_ into zombies…. Barry had tried to run back to Central City and when he’d nearly died of frostbite from the flashfreeze winter storm, it was the _Rogues_ who’d found him.

They were certainly _not_ the ideal zombie apocalypse team he’d made on Facebook.

“We have nothing to trade. We have some gas, food, medical supplies, and blankets. All things we can’t spare. The only thing we have of value is Lisa.”

Lisa raised her head and said with bored loathing, “No, you don’t.”

“I meant your _gold,_ Lisa,” said Cold. “And no one gives a fuck about arbitrary monetary system now that the world’s gone barter again.”

“I won’t let you steal from the survivors,” Barry said, an edge to his voice that appeared far too often lately.

Cold lifted his sunglasses off his face and looked at Barry. He stared, eyes with dark, tired circles underneath. It was long enough that Barry opened his mouth to say… _anything_ to break the silence before Cold flipped his glasses back on and turned to the road. “We’ll see what happens when we get there.”

“Yeah, we will,” Barry replied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started shipping this pretty hard after the woods scene in Rogue Time, though I ran into the same trouble most of us had in that this ship is pretty quiet. Hoping to spark more interest and community in the pairing :) You can check the blog "coldflashcw.tumblr.com" for some updates in the fandom but anyway...
> 
> I love zombie AU's, I (kinda sadly for the sake of my personal time) really enjoy writing slow build fics, though it's been about 2 years since I've written any fanfiction so feel free to give me some advice in the comments.


	2. 279 miles from Central City

Fryoak, Indiana; 279 miles from Central City

Mick held a gym bag full of creamed corn, magazines, condoms, and keurig coffee cups that the Rogues had found at a gas station on their way to the Home Depot/makeshift Trading Outpost. It was some sort of a compromise at least, they had _something_ to trade.

As they stepped out of the car, the cold air snapped into Barry’s face; he tried to cover his face with his sweatshirt but it hardly did anything. The icy air made his eyes water and the liquid in his nose and mouth seemed to turn to solids.

There was a reason Cisco had designed the cold gun to stop Barry.

He felt like his entire body slowed down in the cold (and it likely did). The cold burned in his skin like the shadow of an unwanted grope; it sunk deep into him to make him shiver and lingered when the shivers were gone. He couldn’t help but remember the time when the cold had covered him, freezing his chest until he couldn’t breathe-

Barry shook the thoughts away, forcing his attention to the present moment.

There was a collection of cars at the far back of the Home Depot lot with a single man, covered in coats, sitting on top holding a rifle. Toward the front of the building was an RV with a blanket wrapped woman in the front seat, a shotgun at her ready; and three more ‘groups’ or ‘caravans’ (whatever they were called) were distributed around the lot, each with a solitary guard.

“Lisa,” Cold said, eying their surroundings. “Why don’t you stay, watch over everything and catch up on your reading? I’ll send Mick to relieve you in an hour, if we’re not done by then.”

Lisa frowned, hand tightening on her transmutation gun as she spoke, “Why do I have to stay inside? I want to see what they have.”

“Because it’s the apocalypse. Because you’re a beautiful woman. Because I need the Flash at my side in case things get dicey or he tries to leave us; and Mick’s a hot head so I’d rather you watch our things since if this is a trap we’re likely to know within fifty-eight minutes and twelve seconds, on average. So you’re first at watch,” Cold explained. He walked straight to the entrance of the building without waiting to hear her reply, but Barry just assumed he knew his sister too well. Lisa accepted his explanation, heading back into the car without a word and leaving the men to case the joint out at first.

Barry followed Cold reluctantly, stomping his feet into the snow in order to move and feeling somewhat like he was Cold’s dog.

When they got to the entrance, Mick flung open the door with barely a struggle and raced inside. Barry had noticed Heat Wave’s hand had been twitching on his fire gun the second they’d stepped out of the van.

“After you,” Cold said, gesturing to the door. And Barry gladly stepped into the Home Depot without another thought.

It was _blessedly_ warm inside; the temperature of a greenhouse. Only a single step inside and Barry flung the hood of his sweatshirt and costume mask down, breathing in that… distinctive smell of fresh, hot air. _JESUS it’s warm_ , Barry thought, opening his eyes when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Cold leaned in close, mumbling into Barry’s ear, “Stay next to me, keep those photos of yours at hand, and if you see anything suspicious you better not hesitate to fight with us.”

Barry, his eyes still adjusting to the sudden change from bright white snow to a dark and unlit space, could barely see Leonard Snart beside him though that didn’t stop Barry from knocking the other man’s hand off of his shoulder. “I’ll be your man so long as you don’t start robbing these people,” Barry whispered.

Cold shrugged, muttered, “We’ll discuss that,” into Barry’s ear, and then strutted forward to stand beside Mick. He flipped the hood of his parka down and readied his hand on his cold gun.

Barry sighed, stuck his hand in his sweatshirt pockets and followed.

The odd feeling of wearing his costume (even with the shirt, sweatshirt, and boots covering any identifiable logos) without his mask never quite went away. But frankly, the majority of the world’s population was… likely dead, and if he planned to even _find_ his father, Joe West, Iris, Cisco, and Caitlin than the mask wouldn’t do much good.

The photos Cold was referring to were three pictures Barry had in his wallet, one of his father, mother, and Barry when Barry was only five years old; a family portrait of Joe, Iris, and himself, and a photo of Cisco, Caitlin, and himself sitting at a bar. The last was a funny photo, Barry and Caitlin were stuck in a conversation and Cisco had taken out his phone and shot a selfie of the three of them, a goofy smile on his face that made Barry miss his friends more.

Barry hadn’t told Cold that he was going to bring the photos. Cold had just figured it out, which was a bit surprising.

Barry did assume the evil genius of Captain Cold had been hard at work ‘figuring the Flash out’ so to speak. The man probably knew Barry just as well as he knew Lisa by now; it wasn’t a comforting thought.

Cold was speaking with a large man who was holding a registry; the guy had a very specific aura of being in charge. Barry took the time to look around. About half of the shelves in the building were empty and seemingly pushed haphazardly against the front of the wall, leaving a wide, empty space in the center where people were standing about awkwardly in groups, holding small items of things and talking awkwardly. To the far right was the doorway to the greenhouse, (which was hardly green, more a grayish mold dead plant life) but there were picnic tables over there, and a large collection of children sitting around. The majority of the kids were unnaturally silent, sitting with the adults in their group and eying the world around. A few of the kids however seem to have started a game of tag, and the sight of that put a short, sad smile on Barry’s face as he watched.

The Green Arrow, Firestorm, and himself had been too late to stop the Mysterious Man in the Black Cloak. This, a sad collection of beaten-down human beings hoarding scraps and trading toilet paper like gold… this was the consequence of their failure.

“Barry!” Cold snapped Barry out of his musing. “Get over here, empty your pockets for the nice man and show him those photos of yours.”

Consequence #2; Barry was stuck playing nice for _Captain Cold_ of all people.

Barry walked over to Cold’s side and, being watched by the man with the registry and that man’s armed, muscular bodyguard, emptied his already empty pockets of everything and then his wallet. The man with the registry had a box, the fire gun and cold gun were inside, along with a real, .357 Derringer gun and a wicked looking knife that he’d obviously taken from Cold and Mick.

Captain Cold had given up his weapon rather quickly, which Barry doubted he’d have ever done if Cold wasn’t relying on Barry’s speedster abilities in case of danger.

“That’s it?” The man with the registry had a thick Southern accent.

“He doesn’t carry. He’s our runner,” Cold said, and he clapped his hand back onto Barry’s shoulder.

“Let me see the photos,” the man said, and he picked up the wallet, pulling the three photos out and looking through them very quickly. “Don’t recognize them. Alright, any names?” He asked, turning to what looked like an index page in his huge registry.

Barry cleared his throat with a cough. “Joe and Iris West, Cisco-”

“One at a time,” the man said, turning over to the back of his book in what looked like the ‘W’ section.They went quickly over all of the names with no luck; none of Barry’s friends had passed through.

The man in charge asked their names and then wrote them down in the registry before allowing them to pick up their weapons (which Barry thought was surprising, but he then noticed that everyone in the Home Depot was armed) and carry on to the center of the trading circle.

With his hand still clamped on Barry’s shoulder, Cold steered Barry off to the side while gesturing for Mick to go forward and set their supplies out for trade. Cold took his sunglasses off, sticking them in the pocket of his winter coat before he faced Barry directly.

“What do you want?” Barry said.

“I’m sorry your friends aren’t here. We’ll find them in Central City,” Cold said, his voice was monotone but there was a bit of a genuine feeling there.

Whatever it was, Barry was 100% sure there was some sort of alternate meaning behind it. Snart was still… well, he was still Captain Cold, no matter _what,_ the man was the kind of person who caused chaos just for fun and spent his brilliant mind planning unnecessary crimes just for kicks.

“And?” Barry said, wanting to step backward away from Cold but he stood his ground.

“And I want you to case this joint, tell me how many groups are here, how many people are armed, and how many more of that director’s men,” he gestured to the man with the registry, “are here. I want to know if anyone is watching us.”

“Fine,” Barry said, stepping forward until their faces were inches apart, “but I’m not one of your _Rogues,_ got it?”

“That’s why I _asked_ you to do it, _Flash,”_ Cold snapped. He glared back into Barry’s face without even blinking.

“I want oatmeal,” Barry said quickly.

“Fine, I’ll get you oatmeal.”

“Or Gatorade, if anyone has any.”

Cold smirked. “Don’t push your luck.” And he turned quickly away, heaving back over to Mick without another word.

2 Hours Later

Lisa was trading with what was left of their supplies. The condoms had been remarkably popular, more than Barry had expected since they’d been so easy to find.

He’d left after awhile to sit down at one of the picnic tables, chewing on a granola bar (the only thing with oatmeal that they’d been able to find) and watching the families interacting around him. It was a mindnumbing situation, the screaming children playing tag and the quiet families with coloring books and playing cards; but it was the closest to _normal_ and the only amount of personal space he’d been able to get after nearly two entire months living in a van with three other people.

The place had ended up being ridiculously safe for them. No other group had nearly the man power that theirs did.

Barry watched, an unintelligible and bored look on his face, as Leonard Snart meandered slowly through the crowd of picnic tables and families toward him. The man, who was holding his parka at his side revealing just an old, still stained t-shirt (just like the ones they all wore, the closest thing to laundry they could do was rinsing used clothes and letting them dry inside the van) tossed one leg over the side of the bench and sat partially facing the center of the Home Depot floor.

Barry doubted Cold ever dropped his guard. The man had maintained far more energy than anyone else had.

Two whole months spent driving at a snails pace. Fighting an unnatural cold that threatened to give anyone frostbite if they stayed outside longer than an hour. Undead monsters hiding in the snow. It was a strange, consistent hopelessness that bored into the skull; yet Leonard Snart was apparently immune.

“I’ve got a question for you,” Cold said with a hushed drawl. He slowly looked over at Barry, his gaze dropping from Barry’s eyes to the sweater and then back around like he was studying him. “Will your little moral compass throw a fit if we take a much needed pink slip from some very bad men?”

Barry frowned. “What does that mean?”

Cold turned, putting his other leg over the bench and sitting directly facing Barry, his elbows up on the table. “Here’s the facts; Mick has not lit any ‘accidental’ fires in two weeks. Lisa has had no torturous romantic subquests to keep her happy so she’s hardly talking, and you look like you’re turning into one of the walking dead yourself. We need a cure.”

“A cure?” Barry asked incredulously. _I don’t look that bad, right?_

“Excitement. If something doesn’t spark some life into our merry band we’re liable to die out of utter boredom,” Cold rolled the word ‘bore’ around in his mouth for a long moment before continuing, “and if we don’t get out of that wretched van sometime soon it’s liable to break down.”

“So what does that mean?”

“It means I finally get to use your powers for my own gain- though to be honest I had an entirely different plan for that before this whole, ‘winter of the living dead’ episode.” Cold had a smug smirk on his face that Barry just… really wanted to punch off.

Barry took a deep breath. “I guess I do want out of the van.”

“Good,” Cold said, dropping a hand on the table with a ‘smack’, “it’s sett-”

Barry interrupted, “but not at anyone else’s expense.”

Cold let out a bitter sigh. “Look,” he said slowly, and he leaned forward toward Barry, “do you see those men over there? Big guy with the terrible American Traditional tattoo on his arm? The obese man with the red handkerchief, skull shirt? And that idiotic looking fucker with the white hair and that ridiculous handlebar mustache? You see them?”

“Yes,” Barry said, annoyed.

The three of those men saw Cold looking, they appeared to have been watching him, and the man with the white hair gave Cold a nod. Cold gave him a small nod back, and a friendly grin which Barry, only because he knew Cold uncomfortably well now, could see was fake. “Those fine gentlemen asked for a night with Lisa in exchange for you, me, and Mick to have a night with a young girl they’ve apparently held hostage in their spacious and fuel efficient RV.” Cold looked back at Barry, a neutral expression on his face, “I plan on killing them.”

Barry stared for a long moment, taking in everything Cold said and glancing over at the three villains. One of them was going over to Lisa now, apparently bargaining for some of the coffee cups. “What,” he said, but his voice caught and he had to clear his throat.

“The girl will be fine. There’s a nice little collection of families, the ones playing backgammon over there,” Cold gestured to a table behind them, “who are willing to take her in. As for us, that RV is looking intensely high class compared to our current arrangements.”

“I won’t let you kill anyone.”

Cold rolled his eyes. “And what _would_ you do, Flash?” He demanded, his voice still quiet but with an unmistakable edge of aggravation to it.

“Besides what, not murdering people?” Barry said.

“Will you send them to jail?” Cold said cruelly, “Are jails even around anymore? Will you run them far away so they can’t find and torture that girl again? Oh wait, you can’t run for twenty minutes without your feet freezing beneath you. You want to take them with us, risk keeping three angry, full grown men prisoner in our tiny little car? You want to drop them off in the middle of the snow or a zombie hoard somewhere, so instead of killing them mercifully quickly they either have to suffer the same frostbite death that almost killed you or they get to look forward to being torn apart and eaten for hours which is definitely a fate worse than death. I can assure you when the undead mouths are biting into their liver they aren’t going to be singing praises to your ‘oh so rigid’ superhero morality.”

Barry glared.

And it… it was a good point. What sort of alternatives were there at this point? Barry felt like there _had_ to be another solution, _yet_ this was definitely a no win scenario if Cold was telling the truth. If those men really had a girl locked up in their RV then Barry had to do something to stop them; but with no jail, no police force, and no way to hold them… how could he stop them permanently?

It wasn’t _right._ There should have to be this kind of a decision to be made.  If Barry had just been faster- he could have stopped this, could have stopped the Myster-

“I know this doesn’t seem _fair_ to you,” Cold mocked, interrupting Barry's thoughts, “but all I’m asking is for you to get that girl out of the RV and safe here while me and the Rogues deal with these evil fuckers.”

“I’m not going to turn my back to this,” Barry said. And he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t just stand by and let the Rogues… wreak havoc on these people. The Rogues, just like the zombie apocalypse, existed because of what Barry had done. Hell, _Captain Cold_ ’s name existed because of Cisco, and Barry had indirectly named the Rogues the _Rogues_ so he couldn’t stand back and be impartial.

If he was going to be here, if he was going to keep the Rogues in line and get back to Central City with them at his side, than Barry couldn’t just stand by and let them commit murder. Even if the crime seemed to fit the punishment.

“I thought you were good enough that you didn’t have to kill anyone,” Barry said.

Cold looked at him for a long moment before shaking his head and standing up. “Fair enough.” He rubbed a hand across the stubble over his chin. “Give me an hour to come up with something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the action is forthcoming; background and relationship outlining highlighted the first two chapters, along with the worldbuilding aspect. Superhero stories are generally grand, on big worldwide scales but the mark of a good "horror" story is keeping things small and contained; mixing the two genres is pretty fun and interesting  
> I have a lot planned for the upcoming chapters  
> This series is beta read by the lovely: AngryBees


	3. Fighting Rogues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: canon typical violence

Outside of the Home Depot; 279 miles from Central City

“And that is why we’re going to be taking your car,” Cold said with this obnoxiously smug look on his face, holding his gun casually at his side with Mick, Lisa, and Barry standing beside him like a tiny makeshift army. It was rather impressive, the cold air all around them making the environment more hostile to their opponents than anything else, and the way Cold just stood there, posture straight, feet shoulder-width apart, pensive and patient as he eyed up that man with the white handlebar mustache.

Barry couldn’t help but feel a sense of connection and confidence in the Rogues. After two months with them, the aura that was Leonard Snart was proving to be a bit… infectious. Cold’s confidence, his genius, and the way he had of maintaining some sort of private relationship with each member of the team was honest to god inspiring. Even with Cold’s penchant for… well, villainy, and the strangely nerdish side of the man (how does a person just _accept_ a name like _‘Captain Cold’_ so easily?) did nothing to defer it. Len was a leader.

“You aren’t touching nothing of ours,” the man with the white handlebar- (oh wait, he’d introduced himself, Matt Guster or something? anyway,) Matt Guster said, “we aren’t intimidated by your scrawny little bitch boy and your pretty sister; it’s three on two-”

“Look,” Captain Cold said, steadily raising his gun, “let’s get the posturing over with. Either you step aside, let my Rogues Gallery take your RV and give that girl over to the Harlinson’s, or we will be locking you up.”

“Oh? How’re’you doing to manage that?” Matt Guster howled with laughter (it was disturbing to watch). To be honest, that was the same question on Barry’s mind.

“Well, it’s a little too nice for the likes of you, but I plan to freeze some of this snow, make a little golden cage for the three of you until that girl is safe and far away and some good Samaritan melts it away.”

“What does that even fucking mean?” The man with the red handkerchief demanded.

“It’ll make sense once we start shooting,” Cold assured him.

And that’s when Barry noticed it, the way that the man with the red handkerchief opened his empty hand, like a stage magician flourishing a non-existent wand. The man’s finger pointed toward Lisa, and with a sudden spark of understanding Barry blurred forward, grabbing Lisa faster than she could blink and dragging her twenty feet over to the side.

The moment he stopped moving, a rope shot out of the red handkerchief man’s hand and grasped at the empty space like a snake. It circled right were Lisa’s neck was, forming a noose, and then faded to the ground and disappeared when nothing was there.

“He’s a meta-human!” Barry yelled.

Several things happened at once, the third member of that evil group gaped and was hit with Heat Wave’s fire gun on his left arm; Lisa- or _Golden Glider_ pushed herself out of Barry’s arm and aimed haphazardly at the meta-human but missed by a full yard; and the leader of the ‘bad guys’, Matt Guster, squeezed the trigger aiming straight at Captain Cold.

Barry surged forward with his speed, and he threw his hands out, knocking Cold down to the ground just as Cold’s gun went off. When they fell down, Barry sliding several feet farther in the snow, he saw that Matt Guster’s gun and the bullet were frozen in the air, forming one large icicle that connected around Guster’s hands.

Cold raised his gun from his position on the ground; shooting straight at the man Heat Wave had incapacitated who had just begun to scream in pain.

The meta-human raised his hand toward Golden Glider again, and Barry had an idea. He raced forward, feeling the lightning sparking at his sides, and he grabbed the meta-human’s hand, turning it toward Matt Guster right as tiny threads of string seemed to pop spontaneously out of the meta-human’s fingertips.

The meta-human’s ropes collapsed around his own leader’s already frozen hand, the noose dragged Matt Guster high up into the air. The meta-human yelled with a wordless rage, and right as he did a ball of ice hit him sharply in the stomach, knocking him into the snow.

“Lisa,” Cold said calmly, slowly lifting himself up from the ground, “turn those icicles by those shopping carts to gold for me, will you?”

It took a lot longer than Cold seemed to have anticipated to coordinate the icicles made by his cold gun and his sister’s transmutation, but eventually Mick hoarded the three, winded men into a sparkling, jagged gold cage. Most of the other caravans came out to watch at some point or another, but never too many at once.

Lisa eventually went inside the RV, coming out with her arms wrapped around a blanket covered young woman who looked to be about twenty or so years old. Barry tried not to stare at her… but the young woman’s dark skin and black hair reminded him of Iris.

And he wasn’t quite sure if they should have spared those men’s lives anymore.

His musings ended when he felt that oddly familiar clap of a hand on his shoulder, and Leonard’s frowning, sunglasses and parka-covered face invaded his personal space. _“Flash,”_ he said slowly, “thanks.”

Barry looked at him, confused. “For?”

“Saving Lisa,” he said, and then his hand fell off Barry’s shoulder and he was off into the RV. “Mind helping us clear out the trash in here?” He said as he opened the door and peered inside. “These people were animals.”

Barry shrugged, and then with a flash and the comfortable tingle of electricity, he rushed past Cold’s body and into the RV. He grabbed everything he could reach; running out of the vehicle with armful after armful of trash before he was finally satisfied the place was spotless. Then he took a clean-ish t-shirt, wetted it, and wiped down the majority of the surfaces. He stripped the large bed in the back of the sheets, flipped the mattress over, then flipped the cushions of the futon in the middle of the RV, and there was a small bed in the side that seemed to open up when the RV expanded when it was stopped, along with a stove and a couple cabinets on the other side, so he pulled the sheets off that too and flipped that mattress. The whole process took about thirty seconds.

The door to the RV opened for a moment, and Barry turned to the door expecting to see one of the Rogues when instead a little girl, maybe eight years old, stepped timidly up the first several steps.

She was bundled up from head to toe, plastic bags over her boots and a heavy scarf propping her chin up until she had no choice but to look upward at him. “I am Nattie,” the girl stated, her voice confident but her eyes suddenly watering with emotion.

Barry dropped to his knees to look at her from her level, his eyes looking back through the open door. An older woman stood outside, holding a bundle in her hand and talking to Captain Cold; Barry assumed this kid belonged to that woman. “Hello, Nattie,” he said cautiously, “my name is Barry. Are you sure you should be out right now?”

“Your name is Flash!” The girl announced. She pointed a finger straight at Barry’s eye.

Barry smiled at her. A pang of sadness hit his chest. She was too young to be stuck in this hellhole of a world- four years ago the idea of a zombie apocalypse had been a fun sort of fantasy to have with his friends, imagining who would be weapons specialist, leader, ‘first to turn’, etc… now it was real. And little kids like Nattie, who should be going to school and playing with toys all day, were going to have to live through it.

“Yeah,” Barry said, and he pulled his sweatshirt off quickly, revealing the costume underneath his clothes. “See?” He pressed the insignia on his chest.

“You’re gunna fix it!” Nattie said confidently.

“Nattie!” The woman from outside yelled toward the van.

The little girl reached her hand inside her pocket, pulling out a photograph. She handed it to Barry. “That’s my mom!” The little girl said, “Miss Becker says that Mom is gone now but I saw her! You have to find my mom; she was walking all funny but I know she’s looking for me.”

Barry swallowed. “Right,” he said sadly, “okay.”

“Miss Becker says we’re going South; you have to find my mom before we go to Mexico. Mom knows where my passport is,” Nattie said, highly serious and concerned over her lack of passport.

“They… I’m sure they’ll let you in without it,” Barry told her.

Nattie rushed forward, her arms wrapping around Barry’s neck for a quick moment and then she backed away. A blush crossed her cheeks. “You’re gunna save her, Flash!” She said, and then she hopped down out of the RV.

Feeling slightly sick, Barry pulled his sweater back on. He opened his wallet, looking at his own three photos inside, and then placed the photo of the little girl’s mother with the rest of them. He knew the mother had to be dead; but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything else with it.

He had to admit, once he finished and stopped to admire their new arrangements, Cold had a point. The place was nice, there was much more space in the RV once it was stopped, and even when they condensed the vehicle when they had to move on, there would be far more room to stretch their legs.

And there was a _bathroom. An actual bathroom._

 

Later that night, just outside Fryoak, Indiana; 273 miles from Central City

There were arguing voices that woke him up, a familiar low drone and a higher, angrier sound that forced him to consciousness. He sat up quickly and bumped his head against the top of his bed. The loud ‘thunk’ and resounding pain woke Barry up too quickly. He’d forgotten he was in the small, bunk of a bed that was squeezed in over the cabinets in the RV.

He’d been the only one who could fit in it, besides Lisa, but it had been quickly agreed that Lisa and Leonard would share the larger bed, so Barry had the cramped quarters he was currently in and Mick Rory was given the futon. Barry did like it, the curtain on his part of the bed gave him the little bit of privacy that he hadn’t had the whole time the three Rogues and him were stuck in that van.

The bruise on his forehead was a downside however.

He heard the female voice rising in agitation, so with quiet steps, Barry speeded out of the bed, dropped to the floor, and pinpointed that the noise was coming from the outside of the RV.

Barry crouched down; he was able to hear the voices far more distinctly with his ear pressed up against the cold wood of the RV door.

“…you shouldn’t take that as _encouraging,”_ Lisa Snart was saying, her voice both demanding and pensive.

“I don’t recall discussing this with you,” the sardonic voice of Leonard Snart answered, the same hushed but harshly enunciated tone.

“He saved my life, you saved his life. I don’t see why you have to _drag_ that fucking hero cop along with us; we could have just shot those evil fuckers and been done with it- instead _I almost died_.”

“You’re being dramatic, sister.”

“I don’t like going to sleep every night knowing _the Flash_ is in a bed next to me, I don’t care how obsessed-”

“I’m not obsessed.”

Lisa laughed bitterly. “I could tell you were obsessed the second you called me up to rescue you in your little supervillain crusade.”

“ _GET TO THE POINT_ , Lisa,” Leonard demanded.

“Fine. You, Leo, are the most brilliant man I’ve ever fought with and if I was going to be stuck in the apocalypse with anyone I’m glad it’s you-”

 _“AND?”_ Leonard interrupted.

“But if your _dick_ threatens my life again I am going to _cut it off_.”

Barry froze, ear against the door. _What?_

“That’s obviously a fair point, though I don’t see why you’re so upset. Those three men were taken care of, we got the RV-”

“Only after you jumped through hoops to please your precious _Flash._ I get that you feel like it’s destiny, but I can’t help but question your sanity I mean… _CAPTAIN COLD_ , Len?! Really?”

Barry jumped up with a start, feeling the presence of eyes watching his back. He looked behind him suddenly, seeing Mick Rory sitting calmly at the kitchen table. The fire gun was half dismantled and the hot-head was calmly cleaning a part of his weapon with a rag. They locked eyes; Barry wondered if the confusion in his head was clearly readable on his face. Mick Rory just shrugged. He went back to cleaning his weapon as if nothing was happening.

“Is this all just some desperate bid for that _skinny_ little fucker’s attention? This is the _apocalypse,_ we have _way_ bigger problems right now than getting home to Central City-”

“Why do you have to question everything, Lisa? _I_ got us this far!”

“Well,” Lisa’s voice dropped significantly, to the point where Barry couldn’t hear what she said through the door.

“That’s none of your _business,”_ Leonard said in reply to whatever Lisa had said.

“I’m your sister! It’s my business to know your business!”

“Stop being so difficult-” they continued to argue, but Barry stopped listening. His face was burning red as he knew Mick Rory was watching him eavesdrop.

Feeling too embarrassed to turn around and lock eyes with Mick again, Barry blurred himself, running fast back into the bed on the side of the RV and closing the curtains quickly behind him.

Why exactly _had_ Leonard Snart saved his life? Was it really out of a survival instinct for the Rogues or… was it like Lisa said, and Leonard’s ulterior motives were far more _personal?_ Barry wasn’t sure what he should believe; but what he knew so far had him half willing to chance running through the unnatural artic winter nightmare outside back to Central City.

He lay on his side for almost twenty minutes, his face to the wall as he tried to just will himself to go to sleep. The door opened right when he was about to fall asleep, a deep chill blasting through the RV before it was slammed closed and the wintery smell of a half-frozen Len and Lisa stomped through the room.

The two siblings were unnaturally quiet, and Barry felt the tension in his shoulders fading until Mick Rory’s voice burst through the quiet, a gruff and too loud statement of, “You know, Flash was eavesdropping.”

The resulting quiet was almost as bitterly cold as the air outside.

“Len, I’m sorr-” Lisa began, but she was interrupted by the furious Cold, growling, “Lisa, _shut the fuck up for once in your miserable life_.”

And there was a lot of stomping after that, but no one else dared to say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Rogues don't have a stable relationship.
> 
> This series is beta read by the lovely: AngryBees


	4. 243 miles from Central City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: zombies mention; some gore near the end

Kennedy Space Center; near Titusville, Florida

He pressed the ring on his left hand, pushing it against his skin roughly and then twisting it. If he had been alive, his skin would have ripped from the pressure. It strangely didn’t; a fact that he was still getting used to.

Wrapping his black cloak around himself, the man stepped briskly through the Kennedy control center. An undead being sat hunched over one of the controls, its dislocated jaw cracked and ground against its teeth as it looked upward when he passed. It stayed where it was, not moving, not considering him as a threat. As if they _would_ consider Him a threat; the idea was laughable.

“Our enemy is still missing,” the man said into his hand. His voice was low, almost inaudible, the very act of speaking sounding painful as unnatural air swilled through his dead lungs and out of his mouth. He didn’t have to breathe, so speaking was something that came from the magical power inside of him and not from biology.

The dead don’t breathe after all, it was very simple.

He pressed the hand with the ring against the broken glass of the control room and looked down the twelve story drop to the concrete without emotion. Undead monsters crawled over the space shuttle; they were pointless, aimless, and barely able to follow direction. _His_ direction. He was the General, the Architect, the maker and ruler of his own necromantic world.

Of course, things weren’t _perfect._ That archer, the man with the green clothes and the bow and arrow, he had come close to stopping the man’s Necromancy. There had been three of them, the Green Arrow, a tough looking man who could control fire and… that fast, humanoid, the red bolt of lightning. They were all _threats,_ and something that He definitely had to watch out for.

Allies like those three, superhuman men could possibly have been enough to turn the tide if they had happened to join the _real_ enemy.

He had no doubt about the _real_ enemy; more than two of his scout groups reported an unnatural green power barreling through his armies- but Hal Jordan’s power, while formidable, was not enough. Not while _His_ forces were in control of the entire planet.

There were certainly some other _things_ to worry about.

A blonde woman in black had destroyed nearly one hundred of his undead soldiers; causing him to lose control over a nuclear powerplant near Starling City. A startlingly large number of his troops reported a young woman who could fly saving a military base from the undead airplane pilot He had ordered crash into the military’s armory. And that frighteningly fast red flash, the _only_ one who had come even close to reaching Him before he set off the catalyst, had disappeared entirely from his radar.

Worrisome.

As long as he killed those rebellious living humanoids before they connected with Hal Jordan the rest of _his_ plan would go off fine. If he could turn a few over onto his side, especially that young woman who stopped the plane crash… if He made her _His,_ then there really wasn’t anything Hal Jordan could do to keep the planet from becoming His own.

“The darkness grows,” he mumbled under his breath, the words churning like sandpaper out his lungs and throat. He twisted the black ring again in his hand and stared patiently out of his command center.

He had spies everywhere; it wouldn’t be long until all those costumed humanoids were found.

 

Somewhere in Indiana, 243 miles from Central City

While Barry had planned to sleep in as long as possible and avoid eye contact with all members of the Rogues, he woke up because a calloused hand clapped down across his mouth. Barry's eyes snapped open. Mick Rory held his other hand up to his mouth, making a 'shh' gesture. Barry sat up slowly, opening his mouth to whisper 'why' when he hit his head on the top of his bunk again.

The loud 'thunk' noise of his forehead hitting metal practically rang through the eerily silent RV. _Idiot,_ Mick mouthed, and then he stepped back toward the front where the driver’s seat was.

Barry rubbed his head, hoped that he'd soon get used to sleeping in the equivalent of a drawer, and blurred into his costume and sweatshirt.

Barry slipped down to the floor, his bare feet silently cramping as he wordlessly screamed in his thoughts _the floor is FREEZING_ and he grabbed his boots and thick cotton socks immediately. Sometimes, if he vibrated fast enough he could warm himself, but it was majorly easier to just put on socks over his costume.

He followed Mick Rory up to the driver’s seat, where Leonard Snart was holding the wheel at nearly 180 degrees.

The RV had been almost entirely turned off, everything but the engine was running, and the RV was turning around at 4 miles an hour. Slowly.

Though the glass in front was fogged up around the engines (the heating system couldn’t defog it while turned off) Barry could clearly see that right over the highway was an overturned tree, and a giant traffic accident. 10 cars were piled up over each other, one burned into another, and a huge truck rose over the rest of the cars, a small Porsche jammed underneath its front wheels lifting the front of the vehicle high like a sculpture. Through the broken glass of the truck, Barry saw a walker reaching outward helplessly, half decayed and frozen features twisted in unnatural anger as it was held in place by a seatbelt across its chest. Crawling around this monument of disaster was a hoard of the undead, they circled around the RV but the silent crawl of the vehicle had kept them from noticing their presence. About four inches of snow on the ground made their turn even harder.

Lisa was looking out the side of the window, her face contorted in worry.

It was right then that, with a crunch of ice and a slow jerk, the RV stopped entirely.

"Shit," Mick Rory mumbled under his breath.

"You're up," Leonard said, letting go of his white knuckled grip on the wheel.

"What do I do?" Mick asked.

Barry was similarly lost. It wasn't like Barry was... immune to the idea of the zombie apocalypse, he'd certainly spent his fair share of time thinking about it before superheroism took up the majority of his day, but with every little contingency and worry that the Rogues found themselves in, Captain Cold always had a plan. It was admirable the way that Leonard could adapt to every situation, no matter how outlandish or hopeless it seemed and find a way to get the four survivors out.

Barry respected him that much at least; but what he'd overheard last night still had him feeling like whatever he could do to avoid Leonard Snart he would do. _I mean, he can't actually... like me like that, right?_

Maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome. Two months spent in close proximity, with Lisa being Cold's sister and Mick being... rather gross. Barry was at least a different option; perhaps if they found other survivors Cold would not have-

"Mick, you have to burn out a path for us to get the RV out of here. Lisa, I need you to take this wheel. Turn us around." Cold stood up, walking over to grab his gun from the wall. He flipped the hood of his parka over his face. "I'll make a wall of ice between Mick and the undead, Barry, you'll stand guard with us and if any of the undead get near..." He reached behind his back and pulled out the wicked looking knife Barry had seen from the Home Depot. "Right in the forehead, can you handle it?"

"Of course," Barry said. They were zombies, not people, everyone knew that at this point. Cold didn't have to baby him.

Mick Rory went out first, blasting his fire gun toward the ground with an eerie silence as he walked toward the front of the vehicle to clear a path. Leonard stepped out after the hothead, moving to the back of the RV.

Barry closed the door behind him, trying to ignore the instant cold that burrowed right into his skin. _God, this sucks_ he thought. He was going to follow Rory, but when he turned he saw immediately one of the undead ambling over toward Leonard so he gripped the knife tight and speeded to it.

The zombies were slow even to the living people. To Barry, they were practically made of stone. He jammed the knife effortlessly between the lifeless eyes of the monster, and then he easily grabbed the being's arm and zoomed it twenty yards away into the woods. Depositing it quickly, he did the same to five other undead beings that were on the same side of the van, the tingle of electricity at his legs helping him ignore the unholy squelch and cracking noises as he stopped the half-dead permanently.

Finishing, he stopped himself right next to Leonard Snart as the man was freezing a pile of snow by the far side of the road. By aiming first at the ground and then raising the gun, Cold could build a wall of ice between them and the hoard beyond. It was slow work, but whenever one of the zombies crossed near the fallen tree toward their side of the accident Barry deposited them quickly in his ever growing pile of lifeless undead.

Cold finally finished, a pile of near impenetrable ice between the RV and the danger, and since he stopped to watch Mick Rory clearing the ice out of their path Barry stopped too. "So," Cold said suddenly, looking sharply at Barry.

The awkward, guilty feeling that Barry had felt last night came back, grasping at his chest. "What?" Barry said. He bit the inside of his lip, pointedly watching the breath leave his body in a cloud and not looking back at Cold.

"Eavesdropping isn't polite," Cold drawled.

"You two were arguing so loud I'm sure everyone in a six mile radius heard you," Barry said defensively. _Besides, cocktail party effect, the two of you said my name; how could you expect me not to notice?_

Cold stood silent for a patient moment before he replied. "The four of us haven't exactly had time alone in our old van. Doubtless everyone has unchecked hormones they couldn't deal with."

The idea wasn't pleasant to dwell on. Especially since, well, they'd all _been there_ four weeks ago when Mick got drunk and _thought_ he was being discreet. The memory was unpleasant.

"I'm sure we do," Barry said, since it was all he could think to say in reply. Everything about this whole situation was catching him off-guard. He'd known Cold for two months... Barry would have liked to believe he understood the man more except the past 24 hours proved he didn’t.

"I hadn't planned to bring this up yet," Cold sounded annoyed.

Barry felt weird. Not explainable. Just weird. "You did... plan to bring it up?" Cold... had grown a bit... physical lately. He'd started touching Barry's shoulder... stepping into Barry's personal space when they'd talked, but Barry had just _assumed..._ it wasn't... this... "Look will you," Barry's hands tightened into fists as he said with no small amount of anxiety, "can you just say it? Directly? Because I am not entirely sure we're talking about the same thing; and if we aren't it could be a big relief for the both of us if, you know..." his words faltered, "'cause I didn't hear everything you said. I mean, I heard a lot of it but I didn't hear most of it."

Cold looked carefully at Barry, his expression unreadable. "I wouldn't mind fucking around with you. Is that direct enough?"

Barry's automatic response surprised even himself, "I'm in love with someone else. And she's a woman."

Cold looked amused. "A girlfriend?"

"We're not together."

"Then how...” Cold began and then went somewhere else, "I know you're not a stranger to dating men, Flash. I did a rather thorough background check on you."

Barry's face flushed crimson in embarrassment. "Everyone has phases like that in high school," he said lamely.

"No, they really don't," Cold replied, "So, this girl is nowhere around, you're not even dating her, and you're not even sure she's alive-"

"She's _alive!"_ Barry snapped. "

Alright, sorry. But she's not _around,_ is she?" Cold gestured to the empty highway. "Unless it's my sister."

Barry blinked. "It's not-"

"I know it's not my sister."

"I..." Barry swallowed. "Look, what are you getting at?"

Cold glared at him, and then he sighed and scratched the stubble on the side of his cheek. "Look, Flash, there's no rule anywhere that says a superhero has to be celibate. If you want to get off," he pointed to himself, "I am... _volunteering."_

"'Volunteering'," Barry repeated.

"Offering my services, so to speak. It would be mutual, of course, so keep that in mind if you decide to consider the offer."

Barry felt like he was standing over a cliff. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why... _volunteer?"_

Cold turned around, sliding his sunglasses off of his face and into his pocket. He faced Barry directly; standing farther off than he had before though the intensity of his gaze seemed to close in the space between them. "I like your spark," Cold said, "you're an attractive young man, you're far more intelligent than most people I have to deal with, and I have _always_ had the most fun toying around with you. You're not unstable. You look good in red. And I am rather short on options aren't I?"

"Well-" Barry began, but Cold interrupted him.

"Think it over," he said to Barry, and then looking back over at Mick he announced, "it looks good. Everyone back in the RV."

 

29 Hours Later

Habnerdish Homestead; 248 miles from Central City

Lisa was screaming in the kitchen. Barry held in a horrified scream as Cold wrapped his shirt around the break in Barry's ankle, the man's hands holding the side of Barry's legs carefully.

"You sure you can't drink something for this," Cold repeated anxiously. Barry's bone was sticking straight out of his calcanean tendon, and his leg shook with undeniable pain.

"I'll heal fast, you have to do it now" Barry whispered, his voice hoarse and his forehead drenched in sweat.

Leonard's hands ghosted over the bone. Anticipation wracked Barry's chest, his breaths came in long heaving gasps even as he tried to brace himself, Lisa's screams in his ears.

"One," Cold said.

"Holy fuck, cunt, bitch, shit, fuck," Barry mumbled under his breath.

"Two."

Lips touched; a warm breath hot on his face as Len's mouth pressed into Barry's. Barry's eyes flew open, surprise and shock covering his-

"Three." 'Snap' announced Cold's motion as the man pushed Barry's bone back into his body. Barry groaned, biting hard enough on his cheek to feel blood pouring under his tongue. He couldn't scream, he couldn't, he couldn't... he had never been in this much pain before.

"Stay here," Cold's voice barely registered through the red burning in Barry's brain, "I'll save Lisa."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the ending. Couldn't help it.
> 
> And so the major plot of the story rears its ugly undead head, our big bad villain is super hinted at so 500 points to Hufflepuff for the person who first guesses who the villain is correctly
> 
> And yeah, lots of cameos will be showing up hopefully in the future.


	5. The Homestead - Part 1

Eight Hours Before; 249 miles from Central City

"They seem trustworthy," Barry insisted.

"And we need the gas. We have enough canned goods to trade for it," Lisa added.

Leonard frowned, studying the two brothers in front of them. As they'd angled down a side road, taking a long detour around the traffic jam on the highway, a pickup truck had come down the road in the other direction. The two brothers, Jason and Joe Habnerdish, had waved them down, offered to trade gas or fresh food for information and whatever the Rogues had to offer in trade.

"It's just our elderly mother and us on the farm," Jason Habnerdish said.

"We need gas," Mick Rory agreed.

Barry looked at Leonard expectantly, unsure why the man wasn't giving the okay. It was aggravating enough that Captain Cold had fallen into ranks as their leader. "I think you're outvoted," Barry said. And he felt a small surge of pride when Lisa and Mick agreed.

There was a hard look that Len gave to Barry, but Len simply shrugged it off. “IF,” he said, strong enunciation in his voice giving it a hard tone, “my merry band goes to your- farm? It is a farm?”

“It’s a farm,” said Jason Habnerdish. He had a strong smile on his face, like he hadn’t seen other humans in a long time.

Barry couldn’t help but be excited by the sight of others. The prospect of homemade meals that weren’t cooked with a heat gun… the idea of a bed where he didn’t hit his head on the ceiling. And a farm- well, farms were shoveled out right? Maybe there would even be space for Barry to run. The idea had him reciprocating Jason Habnerdish’s grin. The other brother, Joe, was looking at Lisa very intently. Lisa stared back at him with a smirk.

 _Good luck with that,_ Barry thought as he eyed Joe and Lisa. Lisa Snart was a confident, strong woman who liked to play the corruptor. If she had the upper hand, or she could hurt someone in a relationship, she seemed to really enjoy herself. Barry had never, the entire two months they’d been in a van together, fantasized about being with Lisa Snart, and he was very sure Mick Rory never did either. _If only her brother was that easy to understand_ , Barry mused.

“You say you’ll let us stay the night, give us something to eat, in exchange for what? You two seem well off. Healthy. Showered. We have nothing to offer?” Len said suspiciously. The ice in his glare would have made anyone who knew Len’s background running the other direction.

He was rather angry; Barry noticed. But fuck, these two brothers seemed nice. The idea of a farm seemed really nice. Len was the only one holding back.

“Just the sight of a few friendly faces around is all we really want,” Jason Habnerdish insisted. He chuckled slowly, adding, “And you folks really seem like you need a good bath. Would we be good Christians if we refused to share our blessings?”

“I don’t know,” Len added, the sardonic, pissed-off tone rumbling low in his chest, “I’ve known plenty of holy people who’ve been more than happy to slit some throats.”

Jason Habnerdish’s smile faded. “Look, like you said, there’s nothing you folks have that we need or want. What would we do with an RV and four dead bodies anyway?”

The other brother, Joe, looked sharply at Jason. The two brothers shared a look, and then Joe walked back into the pickup truck, slamming the door behind him. “We’re only half a mile down the road,” Jason Habnerdish said carefully, “you can follow us if you like, and if you don’t like the look of our place you can just drive away. I mean, wouldn’t you like to share some stories with a couple more survivors?”

“Don’t care for it,” Len dismissed.

Barry grimaced as the thought of a good run and a homecooked meal seemed farther and farther away. He crossed his arms, stepping back and watching his frozen breath huff out of his mouth. The Rogues Gallery belonged to Leonard Snart after all, so if Len decided against something it was the unspoken rule that Lisa and Mick would go along with it… then simply by being outvoted, Barry would have to follow suit.

“Oi,” Mick Rory mumbled. He poked his finger against Barry’s shoulder.

The two men barely spoke to each other. Ever. Which made Barry stare at Mick Rory like the man had lost his mind. Out of the corner of his mouth, eyes fixed on the back of Len’s neck, Mick muttered to Barry, “Tell Len you want to go.”

“What?” Barry whispered.

Lisa, who was standing beside Mick, glanced over at this conversation. She frowned, but then nodded at Mick like she was agreeing with him. It seemed even Lisa’s dislike of Barry was taking a backseat to this offer of a night at a homestead.

“If _you_ tell Len you want to go,” Mick continued quietly, “I bet the stubborn icicle will do it.”

Barry clenched his jaw angrily. “Oh?” He hissed, his voice low but as angry as he could make it, “Why do you think Cold will listen to me?”

“You’re joking,” Mick mumbled, “you know he’s soft on you.”

“I’m not going to bat my eyes at Cold everytime he does something we don’t want-”

Jason Habnerdish, with a wistful grin and a wink to Len, jumped up into the driver’s seat of his pickup and started the engine. Their car rolled forward slowly in the snow, since they were going to have to drive past the RV and then do a U-Turn to show the way.

“I can hear you, Mick,” Len said without turning around.

Lisa, walking back to the RV, ‘accidentally’ knocked into Barry’s back and pushed the speedster forward toward Len. Mick Rory gave Barry a final look of encouragement before he followed Lisa out of the cold and back into their vehicle. Barry couldn’t believe it; so it was his job to change Len’s mind? Was everyone else really so convinced that _Barry_ of all people could convince Leonard Snart, a highly successful, internationally lauded criminal with deep connections throughout the mafia circuits and mercenary fields, to stop for dinner?

There was a long cold howl of wind as an unnaturally chilly breeze blew down the road, sending waves of air over the hood of Len’s parka. Barry clamped his arms tighter around his chest, jumping up and down a little in his construction boots to try and warm himself up. He was confident he looked ridiculous, and of course it was right then that Len, suave and stoic as ever despite the freezing weather, turned around to face him.

“You look like you need a thaw,” Len said with a smirk.

“Hilarious,” Barry said as his teeth chattered. He started to vibrate his arms and legs, the resulting effect making him only slightly warmer.

“I don’t like the look of either of those men,” Len said.

 _Is he… is he actually telling me what he’s thinking? Is he asking for my advice?_ Barry stared at him.

Len made a disgusted noise. “Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped.

"What? Th- th… this is just my face!”

“Ugh, you’re so… wide eyed. Your nose is redder than a fucking reindeer,” Len said, obviously pissed off about it.

“I can’t control the fact I’m cold!” Barry insisted.

Len frowned at him. “What did Mick and Lisa say to you?”

“Well…” Barry said, “I mean… we all want to go.”

“What about you?”

“I…” _He wants my opinion?_ “I just… really want to stretch my legs,” Barry said, lamely.

“There are other ways to get exercise,” Len said, a small chuckle in his voice that suddenly turned into an awkward cough. He couldn’t look Barry in the eyes after that. “We don’t know them; we could be following them into a trap.”

“Yeah, except you have the Rogues Gallery and I’m the Flash. It’s not like they’d be prepared for us if it was.”

Len considered that. “I suppose if they do try to kill us we can always take whatever supplies they claim to have.” He turned sharply, walking back to the RV.

“Are you actually taking my advice?” Barry wondered out loud.

Len stopped for a moment. A laugh started to shake his shoulders, and he set his hand against the side of the RV to steady himself. Len’s laugh came from deep place in his stomach, but the amount of mirth that came out of it made it sound both sincere and mocking. He waved his hand in a showman’s gesture, before turning over just enough to give Barry the most sarcastic bow he had ever seen.

Barry decided it was a victory.

 

Habnerdish Homestead; 248 miles from Central City

Len stayed in the back of the group, his hand firmly on the front of his gun as they walked forward. Lisa’s gun was in her holster, as the second they had parked in front of the homestead she’d jumped up to follow Joe Habnerdish into the house.

The farmhouse looked so idyllic. There was a red barn to the back of it, the two story house itself had a wide porch and the entire, picket-fenced in area of the main house had been painstakingly shoveled free of snow. Jason Habnerdish was going on and on, “-so when the dead first rose we didn’t believe it for a week, we hardly had anyone coming around-”

An old woman stood by the front of the porch, a big grin across her face as she waved them in. “Jason,” the woman exclaimed, her eyes bright and blue, and the pleasant wrinkles on her face forming soft laugh lines around her mouth, “don’t talk these folks ears off before we get to hear their story!”

“I was just trying to explain where we’re coming from, Ma,” Jason said happily, and he bounded up the steps, flashed a smile back at Lisa and then… Jason looked straight at Barry. The big grin on his face, the one that seemed so genuine and careful, looked hard when paired with the intensity of Jason’s eyes. And for a moment Barry thought he was looking at the Chesire Cat. Then it was gone, Jason turned away and laughingly gave his mother a short hug before he headed back inside announcing, “I’ll get the baths started for the first guests!”

Barry shook his head, trying to force that strange image out of his brain. He was exhausted; it was the zombie apocalypse and hell, a hot bath sounded like the most glorious thing he’d ever heard.

“Creepy,” Len mumbled as Mick Rory stepped up into the house. Mick took a moment to shake the woman’s hand and pay her a compliment about her home. Barry really hadn’t expected Mick of all people to be the polite one.

“Yeah,” Barry agreed, not realizing he’d spoken aloud until he felt Len’s hand clamp down on his shoulder in that all-too-familiar way. But, as if Barry’s shoulder burned him, Len’s hand suddenly jumped up from his shoulder and the man stepped away again.

Barry shook his head, walking slowly forward until he stopped. For some reason his eyes were drawn to the barn in the back. He looked at it for a moment, but decided there was nothing for him to be staring at.

Len sighed loudly. “Lisa will get us all killed,” he mumbled so softly under his breath that Barry doubted he was even aware Barry could hear him, “like it’s my dick that gets us in trouble, she has a fucking selective memory. Cancún. Fuck her.”

“What happened in Cancún?” Barry asked.

Len looked at Barry with a frown, obviously surprised to have been overheard. “Shit happened in Cancún. Now get inside the house, it’s freezing. I’m going to case the area so tell them that I went to straighten the tires.”

Barry walked up to the old woman on the porch, shaking her hand calmly and repeating what Len had said exactly, because frankly he couldn’t think of a better excuse. Mrs. Habnerdish clasped Barry’s hand with both of her own, her voice musical as she exclaimed, “Oh poor dear! You look half frozen to death and starved! Why, let me get you a muffin to eat and we’ll let you hop in the bath first. Oh dear.” Mrs. Habnerdish ‘tusked’ as she glanced at Barry’s sweatshirt, “That is hardly warm, and oh so dirty. You poor, skinny little thing. That rough looking man has not been feeding you right.”

Apparently ‘skinny’ was the first thing everyone thought about how Barry looked, and it was rather annoying. He actually had muscle now (he hadn’t done anything for the muscle, it just appeared with his powers but it was there) so he was hardly as skinny as he used to be. The idea of a muffin (holy shit?) and a warm bath sounded too good for him to protest though. Barry just nodded, his mouth watering at the thought of baked goods.

Mrs. Habnerdish led him into the house, pointing out the place for Barry to take off his shoes. He did, taking his thick cotton socks off too and setting them down. “Are those footie pajamas? Oh, sorry dear, I shouldn’t pry” She said when she saw the feet on the bottom of Barry’s costume, but she hurried off then and came back with a large woven basket. “I have rolls and muffins in here,” Mrs. Habnerdish said softly. She had the softest look in her eyes at that, something unreadable in her face when she watched Barry take one.

Barry carefully pulled his mask off with the hood of his sweatshirt, not wanting to show off any of the logos on his costume. He eagerly looked in the basket then, taking the first muffin he saw and holding it in his hand with anticipation. _Bread,_ his subconscious thought with over impassioned love, _these people are amazing._

“I’m going to leave a pile of Joe’s old clothes by the bathroom,” Mrs. Habnerdish said happily, “he was always a skinny boy. Now,” she gestured to a door on the far right of the hallway, “the bathroom is right there, Jason should be filling it up right now.”

“Thank you,” Barry said, with deep genuine feeling, “this is all so kind of you.”

Mrs. Habnerdish’s smile seemed to falter for a bit, but it came right back. “Oh, I think you will like it here,” she said as she tucked her basket under her arm.

“We’re only staying the night I think,” Barry told her.

Mrs. Habnerdish laughed. “Oh,” she said stonily, “perhaps you might stay a bit longer… Mr… uh-”

“Barry Allen,” he said.

“Barry?”

“Short for Bartholomew?”

“Oh,” Mrs. Habnerdish exclaimed, overjoyed, “a _good,_ Christian name. How long have you been traveling with those friends of yours?”

“Since this all started,” Barry said. He took a bite of her muffin. It was _hot_ and _fresh,_ and in that instant he realized that the electric lights in the house were on and there was a fresh smell coming from the kitchen. They had a _generator._ The muffin had _chocolate chips._

“And who are your friends?”

“Leonard, his sister Lisa, and Mick. Len’s kind of the leader, I only sort of knew them beforehand so I’m not really a part of their whole group,” Barry told her with a mouthful of muffin.

Mrs. Habnerdish’s smile suddenly seemed just as Chesire-cat-like as her son’s. “Oh, I do hope you consider staying with us,” she said softly, “Now why don’t you hop into the bath, take as long as you need.”

 

Barry’s stomach was heavy and full from the muffin. He could barely lift his head up out of the water, his mouth falling in and his whole body curled up in the tub. It was so _warm,_ he felt like he was baking.

The warm feeling in his toes was so comfortably strange, he wanted to just spring up out of the bath and run around the room in circles- a weird feeling, but considering... well he was the _scarlet speedster_ and it had been so long since he had _run_ that Barry almost did it.

The quiet splash of water on the side of the tub when he moved, the comforting view of a working toilet, a sink with toothbrushes and toothpaste arranged in neat little piles on the side, and a big, fluffy, yellow and green flowery towel on a rack beside the tub almost lulled Barry into a permanent slumber and a sense that the whole world was right again. He was almost completely relaxed, and as he slipped his hand down between his thighs Barry let himself gasp aloud.

It had been far too long.

He started off slowly, feeling himself sinking lower and lower into the hot water. His thumb and forefinger curled just under his glands, sliding down tight and slowly only a short inch before he let his hand rise back up. Barry continued that slow, easy stretch, his body responding to that motion very quickly until the soft shaft stood almost directly stiff underneath him. He was sensitive to even the slightest movement of his thighs.

Barry let out a shaky breath, feeling tingles of encouragement from his lower stomach all the way up to his shoulders. He tried to keep his mind blank, focusing only on this blissful moment of privacy.

Angling his hand down slightly, Barry wrapped his whole hand around now, stroking down to the bottom of his shaft, holding that tight sensation for a few seconds, and then sliding his tight hand up back to the tip. “Oh, fuck,” Barry mumbled, his chin resting on the side of the tub and his eyes screwing shut involuntarily. He could feel every single millimeter he was touching; his body was so sensitive Barry almost felt like he was going to explode from it.

As he reached the top of his shaft, his thumb flicked over along the top of the glands before he jerked down again. And then he repeated the motion, slowly at first, and then each time just a tiny bit faster. Barry knew just how fast was comfortable to go, especially with his powers. He’d had trouble… containing himself the first time and had ended up with an extremely painful burn. Barry knew he couldn’t go… full speed, he had to reign himself in.

But he did have one, amazingly useful trick.

Soft ripples bounced off the side of the warm tub as Barry’s hand started to vibrate along his shaft, the tingles of sensation growing and subsiding with each little motion and flick of his wrist. Barry groaned loudly against the side of the tub, forgetting for a moment he was in a stranger’s house, and then he swallowed up the next sound he was about to make.

A flick of his vibrating hand, starting at the bottom and then curling up toward the top, brushed roughly across a vein on the front of his shaft and pressed his thumb tightly against his head. Barry repeated the motion, as fast as he dared, noting the sloshing sounds on the side of the tub though he didn’t let himself go fast enough to spill water to the floor. It was so good; his fingers nearly going numb as they shook and vibrated along himself, his legs spreading wide over the side of the tub to get in deeper, give himself more access and more room-

Yet it wasn’t enough. His brain felt eerily blank, and Barry couldn’t help but think longingly back to the world of easily google-able porn videos. He needed something else.

Barry tried to call to his mind the breasts of his first girlfriend, but the memory was worn thin and had lost most of the nostalgia from use. The same bored feeling came to mind when he thought of prom night with his boyfriend, or any of the (2) times in college. It was almost impossible coming up with a fantasy on the spot, and Barry’s hand slowed around his cock, cupping the head of it in his hand as slowly vibrating fingers rubbed softly on its side.

If he didn’t get off _now,_ the _only_ time he probably was going to have free time until he got to Central City, than Barry was going to fucking explode. Or accept Len’s offer, whichever-

Barry’s spine shivered, and he sunk his shoulders deep into the water and his hips lurched up into his hand. _Okay, okay,_ he thought slowly, his chin falling back into the steam as he blew a bubble of air in the water with defeat, _it’s not like it changes anything if I just think about it._

He shifted himself a bit in the water, leaning up on his free hand and folding his feet underneath his thighs to give himself a little room. _Leonard has broad shoulders_ , Barry thought carefully, burying down the little guilty feeling in his stomach, _he has a deep voice and a smirk like he knows he’s the smartest man in the room._

He kept the stroking pace even, rising his hand over his cock, sliding his wrist along the top, and then lowering his hand the opposite direction, a smooth, flowing motion that came naturally.

 _I wonder if he’s found time to do this,_ Barry lifted his head up with a silent moan as his toes curled underneath him. He paused for only a second before continuing on. _Snuck off into the bathroom, -wonder if he strokes off thinking about me, imagining- imagine those curled, mocking lips wrapped around my-_ every muscle in his legs suddenly tightened, and Barry pulled his hand off of himself immediately. The feeling slowly abated, sinking deep into his lower stomach, and then he reached his hand back, fingers tight and slow now, not wanting to get off too quickly. It was a pleasant moment, maybe the only time like this for a long while, and Barry wanted… oh fuck he needed to savor it before it was gone.

 _Len’s eyes looking up at me, those thick hands pressed into my thighs pushing my legs apart-_ Barry widened his legs to go along with the fantasy, back resting roughly on the side of the tub as he maintained the now awkward position with his feet curled under himself. _And his cheeks hallow out, I can see his jaw moving up and down as his tongue-_ Barry’s thumb swiped along the top of his head, pressing deep into the most sensitive places- _he says something and his hand grabs me, starts jerking me up-_ and down, speed ever increasing as the fantasy took hold and Barry’s only thought was to go faster and faster, giving into his impulses- _and Leonard says, “I have always had the most fun toying around with you… Flash” and then he-_

Barry’s toes curled up tightly, a deep warm feeling, hotter than the water in the tub and hotter even than the skin on Barry’s face, it rushed over his groin like a wave, rising into his chest. His stomach jerked three times in rapid succession, a tension coiling up like a knot in his shoulders and then it fell away. The softest, cleanest sensation of blankness crossing over Barry’s mind.

He dropped his hand, letting it float away and relaxed his position, legs curling back up toward his chest, arms relaxing at his sides. Barry could have stayed there forever.

A quiet knock tapped on the bathroom door, and Lisa Snart’s hushed tone invaded his moment of peace.  Unwelcome and secretive, her voice floated under the door and the words took a long moment to register in Barry’s brain, “There is a man’s body in the refrigerator.”

And the peace was gone.


	6. The Homestead – Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: crime-scene type violence; some gore

Habnerdish Homestead; 248 miles from Central City

Barry's hair dripped down his neck, the liquid turned frigid the moment he opened the door. He stared down the hallway in both directions but Lisa was nowhere to be seen.

"Lisa?" Barry hissed, peeking out of the bathroom with one hand wrapped around his towel. Before he'd got in the bathroom he'd handed his clothes off to Jason Habnerdish... well, except for the costume. With no other option, Barry shut the door and grabbed the Flash uniform from where he'd hung it in the sink. Barry had rinsed it out and let it hang dry (Cisco would be pissed if he knew) , so the moment Barry touched it he knew the uniform was soaked. There was an easy fix for clothing that never wore out from use. Barry gripped the sides, shaking the uniform with blinding speed to dry it out. He put it on with a blur.

The material caught up around his thighs, was tight up by his chest and too loose on his stomach (was he really getting skinner?) and it was very, very uncomfortable around his now overly-sensitive groin.

Uncomfortable feeling aside, as Barry slipped the mask on he caught a quick glimpse of himself in the mirror and felt... good. It had been a long time since he’d just worn the uniform like this.

He had to find the rest of the Rogues. Lisa first.

Silently, he stepped out into the hallway. There was a voice over by the kitchen; one of the Habnerdish boys said something with a loud laugh. It was eerily muffled by the walls between them.

The room at the end of the hallway was a dining room. Four table places had been set up. Glass bottles, ceramic plates with a flower design, shining silverware, and cloth napkins lay on all four corners of the dining room table. There were two candles in the center, waiting to be lit.

Barry could see the kitchen in the room beyond. He hugged the sides of the walls as he angled his way toward it, careful not to be seen even as he sped his way around.

He was fast, not invisible. Even at his fastest, Barry would still be noticed so being covert was as important as ever.

He had to... make sure Lisa hadn't been joking to get him out of the bathroom. That was always a possibility.

The kitchen was empty; a salad bowl ready to be tossed on the counter besides the basket of muffins, but the rest of the kitchen was entirely spotless. It had the effect of a stage house, something a little too perfect or theatrical.

As Barry stepped carefully on the floor of the kitchen his foot slid a few inches. The refrigerator then, he decided. With a swift look behind him, Barry sped to the door of the refrigerator and opened it.

Barry breathed a sigh of relief. A container of orange juice. Some dried out fruit. A yogurt. Milk. Cheese. There was a leftover container with what looked like shepherds pie in it. The refrigerator was a bit sparse considering how confident the Habnerdish's had been about their supplies but the family just seemed generous.

Barry shut the door. "Why four table settings," he wondered aloud to himself, as he pulled the mask off his face and let it hang on his back. His wet hair was clumped up in bunches and standing up in all directions.  A little bit of ease came back to him; Barry crossed his right hand over his left and then pressed it to his chest in a welcome stretch.

He couldn't say exactly what made him open the freezer. Only that he did, and the half frozen face of man stared up at him.

The man was cut into pieces. Each piece wrapped in plastic wrap. The pieces were all lightly covered in a frozen, dark substance that Barry knew was blood.

Barry saw a bit of color, behind a muscle that lay across the man's cheek (latissimus dorsi, he knew, Barry wasn’t a medical examiner but he could certainly recognize the major muscles and bones of the body). He shook his right hand, a gesture Barry was used to doing after he put on his plastic gloves when he examined a crime scene. He gently moved the muscle away, allowing access to that spot of color. They were red, chipped nails on a hand that had been cut off along a jagged edge.

Two bodies, a woman and a man.

Barry pushed the nail polish hand slightly to the side and he was able to see the bone better from that angle. Long, slow cuts in two different directions. Multiple stopping and starting points. Three places where the incision had caught in some place and the cutting had been forced through. A handsaw. Non-electric. The kind that was good for construction work, like cutting planks of wood or fixing a fence.

It was the kind of saw that would be in anyone's toolshed.  There were probably at least two possible saws of that type on the homestead and Barry guessed they both were in the barn.  That had to be where the family was killing their victims.

They were monsters. Always, there were monsters.  Nothing good happened, nothing good was ever going to happen again.

The voice from the other room, the parlor connected to the kitchen, said something quietly and Lisa’s voice responded with a laugh. Her tone was gleeful, the amount of peppiness coming from it would gross out a cheerleader. “Joe!” She giggled.

Barry slipped his mask on over his face as he headed over to the door toward the parlor. Sneaking, one padded shoe over the other, he could see the back of the coach from where he was and the back of Joe and Lisa’s heads. The parlor room was homely, with a quilt on the far wall, plenty of windows, a big, worn in couch and family pictures tossed about. The room should have been one that made any person comfortable- just for long enough to chop up their victims Dexter-style.

Barry’s foot suddenly reached a low point in the hardwood paneling and a loud _creak_ rang through the walls.

Joe’s hand had reached up to brush Lisa’s hair from her cheek, but he turned around quickly with a fist rising up to fight. Joe paused. He looked at Barry, eyes traveling up and down the Flash uniform. _“What_ the fuck is that-” The man said loudly.

Lisa didn’t hesitate. She grabbed around Joe’s head, gripping his skull tight and slamming it down back against her knee. Joe collapsed, hitting the floor. His elbows immediately reached up for the gun on his right side.

Joe yelled. Wordless, but loud enough to sound a warning.

Barry sped to the man's side.  Barry bent his elbow at a ninety-degree angle and then dropped to the floor, bringing the weight of his body and the speed he’d built up against Joe’s right shoulder. Lisa stood up, kicking Joe hard in the ear. As Barry rolled away and jumped to his feet, Lisa turned the stunned man over and tugged off her thin, battered coat. She jammed the material into Joe’s mouth, holding it tight against the side of his ears. She braced herself on Joe’s stomach, her knees pressed roughly into the sensitive brachioradialis of the man’s arms. “Go!” Lisa yelled to Barry. She held Joe back, her position giving him all the leverage and strength she needed. “I’m _fine!_ Find Len!” There was utter terror in her eyes; and Barry hesitated for a moment as their gazes met each other.

The sight of those bodies in the refrigerator was an image neither of them would forget for a long time.

“He won’t get hurt,” Barry promised suddenly. And he ran out of the house.

The door flew open in front of him, one of the porch stairs flung off into the air after he stepped on it, a deep dirt was gouged into the ground when Barry turned to face the barn; and when he ran to the front- he _threw_ the doors open- Barry raced inside with fury in his eyes and lightning quivering around him like an unholy guard-

He slipped on ice. One foot fell in front of the other, Barry landed rough on his left hip, and the resulting force of his motion had him speeding straight forward until the wall at the far end of the barn. Barry hit it hard, right up at his thigh, and felt something hot and heavy pressing up against his uniform. The skidding must have ripped some of his skin.

Wobbling, Barry turned to his feet and grabbed his knee to support himself. His legs shook as he stood, the left leg feeling weak.

“Way to stick the landing, Flash,” Len said calmly.

Len was standing only ten feet away; his parka hood and sunglasses were on, and he was aiming his cold gun. In front of him, Jason Habnerdish, the man’s face screwed in a sickening snarl, had a large gun pointed at Len and he was holding the handle of a pitchfork. His foot was on the top of it, no pressure yet on the instrument, and underneath the weapon was Mick Rory.

Mick was trapped.  One hand was holding some sort of wound on the hothead's stomach and the other hand held the pitchfork blade that threatened to fall right on his throat.

The gun Jason Habnerdish was holding was the heat gun, Barry realized.

“What the fuck is that kid wearing?” Jason Habnerdish said, some sort of sickening delight in his voice. He didn’t even glance at Barry, not taking his eyes off of Len for a second.

“Shut up, Jason, you’re already on thin ice with me,” Len replied.

Jason snarled, “If you say one more _damn_ thing about ice I swear to _fucking God_ -”

“Oh,” _Captain Cold_ ‘tsked’, “don’t let your mother hear you with that language.”

Len was Captain Cold now.  That strangely calm, but sarcastic tone in his voice, the power stance, and the way he spoke- there was subtle little shifts Len had made that seemed to change everything.  Barry would have never seen it before.  Like a kid playing cops and robbers, Leonard Snart had thrown on his Captain Cold persona.

“Cold,” Barry said carefully. He put one foot in front of the other, his arms wide for balance- the entire floor of the barn had been frozen, and the footpads on Barry’s uniform were not gripping like they used to. “These people-”

“Where’s Lisa?” Cold demanded, interrupting Barry.

Mick Rory let out a noise that sounded like a squelch and a whine, his fingers giving them a slight wave as if to remind them _I’m right here and I’m about to die you stupid idiots_.

“Lisa had the jump on the other guy, she’s fine, she sent me out of here to get you,” Barry said quickly, the words jumped over each other but were still understandable, “ _but Cold they have dead bodies in the freezer_ they’re eating them I think they had only _four tablesettings_ I don’t know why four but I think-”

“Yeah,” Len said simply, “the human equivalent of backwash in front of me tried to get the jump on me and stuff me in some sort of meat grinder.”

“HEY!” Jason demanded attention, “You better put your fucking _big hero_ gun away or your friend gets his throat pierced!”

“Don’t be dumb, I know the only thing keeping you _from_ bleeding out my friend is the threat of being iced. And the name’s _Captain Cold_. I’m not the hero _archetype,”_ Cold smirked, “you’re thinking of my friend here. Ever heard of the Flash? That crazy red streak running through Central City, stomping on people in his way? Well, it’s _that_ scrawny kid, right there.”

Barry took a long moment, looking at the tense situation. Dropping his voice low, he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, “I’m not faster than that gun, but I can get the pitchfork out of his hand before Mick gets hurt.”

Cold didn’t look over at Barry or make any overt indication he had heard. “Hey, _Jason,_ did you know cannibals get worms in their brain? Makes them dumber. You can’t lose any more brain cells so you should really look into vegetarianism.”

Barry just decided to go for it. He dropped to the floor, one hand reaching out in front of his form and his legs ready to sprint, and then in a blur of lightning he rushed forward, skirting out of the way. He grabbed the handle of the pitchfork right below Jason’s hand, yanking it up and outward as he ran forward.

He had pulled the pitchfork away successfully, running forward on the ice toward the outside of the barn where he knew the dirt ground would let him stop. Right when Barry reached the side of the barn, he heard something snap underneath his foot.

A fast glance down and he saw a bear trap, its jagged maw reaching to collapse over his ankle. Barry jumped his foot out of the trap with panic. The bear trap snapped shut without his ankle, having pulled himself safe out of harm’s way, but the movement threw Barry hard onto the ground shoulder first. He flipped over uncontrollable, the pitchfork falling out of his hands as he lost his grip. His body bended over itself and as he flipped his foot was caught under his side.

There was a crack as his ankle bone was pulled in the wrong direction.

It was so sudden and unexpected that the scream Barry let out of his mouth was one of frustration and not pain. He curled up on the ground, hands grabbing fistfuls of already dead dirt as his stomach contorted and bile threatened to rise up in his stomach. The pain cramped his shoulders down toward his chest, but that movement aggravated the ankle where it had fallen and Barry’s body felt like he was boiling.

With a burst of agony, he lifted himself up from the terrible position on the ground, his unbroken leg getting up off of his broken on and his back falling down in exhaustion on the ground. He lurched up as if to vomit, but fell back on the frozen dirt. His foot was twisted in a sickening direction, his knee turned inward as his whole leg tilted to keep himself from moving and aggravating it even more.

Barry reached up to his hood. His shaking fingers barely managed to pull the mask off from his wet hair- nearly frozen in the cold of the outdoors. “Damn, damn, damn _damn,”_ Barry groaned.

Len’s voice was shouting at a bit of a distance (Barry’s heartbeat was pumping loudly in his ears and it made it hard to hear) “You shouldn’t have _killed him_ , we have a code!”

“The man had a _pitchfork to my throat_ DAMN WELL I AM GOING TO KILL HIM!” Mick Rory yelled. There was a snapping noise, a crackle in the back. Fire?

“That hay is going to catch flame and burn the whole fucking forest-” Len warned.

“And _then_ I’ll burn the house! And the other man! And the _little old lady_ too; this whole place will be _fucking_ ashes!”

“GO, GET LISA!” Len’s voice was like thunder. “Barry,” he yelled, “where-” And then he stopped talking, and Barry could hear running footsteps getting closer to him.

There was a strange warmth in the air when Len’s knees dropped down by Barry’s stomach, and gloved fingers reached out to the side of Barry’s neck. “Barry,” Len said urgently, “Barry, look up at me right now. I need to see your eyes.”

Barry’s whole face was twisted in a grimace, tension in his face and upper body felt like his only lifeline. He fluttered his eyes open for a second, before clenching them shut again. He was barely able to mumble, “No,” as his back teeth grinded against each other.

“You have to relax. Your ankle is broken, we can fix that. Is anything else hurt?” The hands dropped to Barry’s tight shoulders, forcing them down. “It will hurt more if you stay tense, I promise.”

“’what you know?” Barry said painfully, his fingernails pressing tightly into the palm of his hands.

“Lisa broke her ankle twice before she turned twelve,” Len said. He grabbed Barry’s hands, setting them up against the sides of his arms. Barry gripped the soft material tightly in his hands. “Breathe with me, alright? Very natural. Got it?” Len took an exaggerated breath in, and Barry obediently tried to mimic it. A mixed line of sweat and tears dripped from his forehead to the side of his chin, but Len reached forward and wiped it away with his gloved hand. Slowly, Barry managed to get himself to relax.

There was some sort of screaming behind him; it took a long moment to recognize the screams were from Lisa.

Len’s attention wasn’t diverted for a second. “Open your eyes now,” he ordered.

Barry did. His vision was watery, but the rest of it was clear. No concussions were messing up his thoughts or brain, though he almost wished he had anything that would dull the pain.

“I have a thermos with scotch in-” Len had taken the glasses off, they dangled around his neck, but the fur on the hood swirled around his face with the wind. Barry focused on that motion, feeling just the littlest bit of distraction. Len was right, the pain was easier to handle when he stopped tensing up.

“It won’t help,” Barry said. And he knew they were talking about setting his ankle. Barry healed too quickly to leave the bone out like it was, sticking straight out of his calcanean tendon. He chuckled morbidly, gritting his teeth and letting out a shaking breath. “Be quick.”

"You sure you can't drink something for this," Cold repeated anxiously.

"I'll heal fast, you have to do it now" Barry whispered, his voice hoarse and his forehead drenched in sweat.

Leonard's hands ghosted over the bone. Anticipation wracked Barry's chest, his breaths came in long heaving gasps even as he tried to brace himself, Lisa's screams in his ears.

"One," Cold said.

"Holy fuck, cunt, bitch, shit, fuck," Barry mumbled under his breath.

"Two."

When Len’s face dropped down and his lips pressed on Barry’s, Barry instantly knew it was a distraction. Ease the tension, “one two oh look a bug _three”,_ like Joe used to do when ripping bandaids off of Barry’s knees.

Len’s breath was hot on his face, his lips strangely soft as they pushed down, and then he kissed top of Barry’s lip slowly. His bottom teeth just lightly touched Barry’s shaking mouth. Len seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then his head dipped lower, his face pushed against Barry’s, mouth hungrily pressing his. Barry opened his mouth with a gasp.

Len’s face went away, leaving tingles of pressure like a shadow on Barry’s skin.

"Three."

‘Snap’. As Barry’s ankle was thrust back into his body. Quick hands rolled something around Barry’s leg, holding it tight like a tourniquet, and Barry felt that for one instant before a white, hot sickness overcame him. Barry groaned, biting hard enough on his cheek to feel blood pouring under his tongue. He couldn't scream, he couldn't, he couldn't...

Barry lurched to the side, his stomach thrusting upward and he gagged.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Len whispered, his voice barely getting through the burning shock in Barry’s brain, "Stay here, I'll save Lisa."

“I’m right here, Len,” Lisa said.

Jason Habnerdish walked forward slowly. There were two huge welting bruises on the side of his face, and his eyes looked dead ahead. His arm was wrapped around Lisa’s neck, the hand grabbing the front of her shirt, and his other hand held a gun straight against her ear.

Len pressed his hand up against Barry’s back, helping Barry to sit up and turn so he could see the enemies coming faster. It was going to be a long time before Barry could walk on his foot-

A knife dropped on the floor beside his leg, from Len’s coat, and Barry grabbed it up quickly. _I really have to start carrying one of these,_ Barry thought. “Look at the lady, Captain,” Mick Rory’s voice said, sounding hallow and strange. Mick Rory was standing next to Jason Habnerdish. He wasn’t struggling. His arms were dropped to his sides with the gun in his hand and he stood like a puppet on a string, staring at them with ghostly eyes. His mouth then began to mumble something but no words came out.

“Where are _you_ from,” growled a woman’s voice, harsh and strong enunciation behind it like some sort of force was pushing up against her tongue as she spoke. The old woman walked forward, her dark blue, flowery dress was eerily straight at her sides despite the wind, and those friendly eyes, the face with the heavy laugh lines, were dark and cold.

The dead-eyed look in Mick Rory was echoed in Jason Habnerdish. “You’re a meta-human,” Barry realized. “You lure people to this place, you turn them into your monsters and you eat them when you’re done with them.”

Mrs. Habnerdish chuckled. “I would never _eat_ any of my _sons,”_ and she looked at Mick and Jason briefly before she turned again to Barry, “I used to have three sons.”

“Lady,” Len said, raising his gun, “ _fuck you_.”

“Look in my eyes or we shoot your sister,” Mrs. Habnerdish demanded. She stepped forward a few paces, still too far away for Barry to reach her, and bent down to stare straight at Len.

Something dark seemed to pass from the woman into Len. “I see you very clearly,” Mrs. Habnerdish said.

“ _Let go of him_!” Barry yelled, and he lurched forward with the knife but fell to the dirt again, the knife falling out of his hand as he collapsed in pain.

And Mrs. Habnerdish’s strange eyes looked right into his.

From a distance, Barry heard Iris calling his name as an awful smell of burned pancakes floated into his consciousness. The pain fell away with the feeling of falling from a great height into water, and as he left the world turned awake and Barry was staring up at Joe West as the man struggled to place half-burned pancakes on a stack of other half-burned pancakes.

“And here,” Joe said with a laugh, wiping his forehead, “I wanted to be prepared for your mother and father’s return from France.”

It took a very long moment for Barry to realize Joe was talking to him. “My parents-” _the word sounds weird in plural_ , “were in France?”

“Of course, for their honeymoon.” Joe reached out with an oven-mitt covered hand and rubbed it over the top of Barry’s head, sending Barry’s hair in a hundred messy directions. “I still can’t believe I let you stay here since you and Iris-”

And Iris was running down the stairs, a plastered smile on her face and a dress Barry couldn’t describe floating around her body like an angelic aura. She wrapped her arms around Barry’s neck, and then without a sound pressed her lips into Barry’s.

It was mechanical. Barry wasn’t sure what colors were what, he couldn’t say why this strange place felt like home or how he knew Joe and Iris were… Joe and Iris because they didn’t seem to have a form or a shape.

Everything existed like a _sense_ of being. If he relaxed, if he let go of his tension… this fantasy would overwhelm him.

And here was his home. There were no zombies. His mother and father would be walking through the door any minute. His _mother_ and _father_ would be _walking through the door any minute_.

“Iris,” Barry returned her hug, arms wrapped around her. He couldn’t kiss her back- she was a figment and he wasn’t sure yet where the features on her face were- only they kept getting clearer and clearer every minute, each blink he made had this world coming sharper and sharper into focus and growing more real every second that he existed here.

“I’m so _happy,_ you’re here Barry,” Iris said. Joe rumpled his hair again. Iris kissed him again. There was a knock on the door and everything felt awful- it felt like Barry had picked up voodoo dolls of the people he loved and he was manipulating them into doing whatever he wanted. Like a sick puppetmaster.

And there was another knock on the door, and suddenly Iris turned and looked at Barry with a face full of sunshine and happiness- the face he’d grown up with, the one that always put him at ease, “You’re mother is here!” Iris gripped Barry’s shoulders tightly. “All five us will be together again, and nothing will keep us apart, Barry. I love you, Barry.”

And sure, Barry thought the fantasy was nice _enough,_ but the sight of Iris being forced and twisted to say the words he’d wanted her to say for so long made him sick to his stomach.

Pain shot up from his leg.

There was a white blur as the fantasy around him was erased, the world disappeared.

The air was cold on his shoulders. His ankle hurt so bad that his stomach felt like it was dead and the pain existed, not on his leg, but somewhere in his throat. Barry opened his dry mouth to gasp a tight breath, and he breathed in the frigid air. As his breath faded out, his mouth exhaled the word, “Iris,” without his moving it, and then the grip on that fantasy was gone.

He looked up.

The barn behind them was ablaze and it crackled loudly, giving them some light. The sun was just dropping over the hills, and everything was covered in long shadows and dark green scenery.

Lisa was tucking a gun into her jeans, and the body of the meta-human old woman lay face forward on the dirt. With a grimace, her eyes met Barry’s. “You’re just a magnet for those freaks, aren’t you?” Lisa said bitterly. She spit blood onto the dirt floor, and reached out with her shoes to kick Mick Rory hard in the chest where the man lay on the floor.

“Water!” Mick Rory jumped up with a gasp, “Call the fire department, the house is burning, the house is burning; I am calling the fire departmen-”

“Oh, shut up,” Lisa growled at him.

Mick looked up at her with sudden understanding. He sighed. “Damn, _fuck_ this freaking pit stop.”

Len was lying down, his face staring blankly up at the sky as his lips moved slowly. Barry crawled carefully over to the other man’s body, still unable to stomach the idea of putting any pressure on his ankle. “Wake up,” Barry said, shaking Len’s shoulders.

The trance didn’t break. Barry clapped his hands together right next to Len’s ears with a similar lack of results. “Cold!” He yelled, and he shook the man rougher this time. Len fell straight back, looking up at the sky with a blank expression on his face.

“’course I never left you, prom’s’d I wouldn’- where’s your hat, Lisa- I saw” Len was muttering, the words fading out and in with each breath that Len took, the string of disjointed sentences never stopping. It was creepy. This whole thing was creepy. Barry was tired, he was in so much pain he was sick, he was slightly heartbroken, and he just wanted to curl back up in their RV with the vehicle’s engine thrumming beneath his pillow.

“ _Captain Cold_ ,” Barry said loudly, shaking Len’s head from side to side.

“My wife!” Jason Habnerdish- _probably not his real name_ , yelled at Lisa. The formerly possessed man reached up and gripped Mick Rory by the shoulders. “Those men have my wife, what will they do with my wife? Where is she? Where is she?”

Barry remembered the woman’s hand in the freezer. _Fuck,_ he thought. And he wiped away at his eyes with his hands. “I’m going to punch you,” Barry said. After all, kicking woke Mick up, and the pain in Barry’s ankle had helped him break out of the fantasy.

“-I always take care of you-” Len was mumbling.

Barry punched Len straight in the jaw.

The man jumped up immediately, grabbing up with his hand at some invisible enemy. His legs tried to stand, but they folded underneath him and he dropped straight to the ground again. Leonard paused. He looked around at his surroundings, and then breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Shit,” he said.

“Shit,” Barry agreed.

Leonard straightened himself up, and then sat back down properly. “You okay?” His right cheek was swelling slightly, there was a long streak of dirt from his ear to his neck.

“I’ll heal,” Barry said.

He glanced over at Lisa and Mick, who were not managing at all to comfort Jason Habnerdish. “They okay?”

“I think I got the worst of it,” Barry said.

Len nodded. Barry watched Len, quietly observing the way the man’s short and shallow breaths grew longer and more relaxed as he calmed himself down. “In fifty miles, right before we reconnect to the highway, there’s an outlet mall. We can get supplies there.”

“I don’t want to stay here,” Barry said.

“Do you think we need to talk?” Len asked. He gestured vaguely at his mouth.“About what happened before… psychic, dream-grandma attacked us?”

Barry chuckled at the name but the thought of bringing up how the kiss… he couldn’t right now. Barry could hardly even think to form clear sentences together. “Can it-” he began.

“-wait?” Len finished, agreeing. “It can wait.”

Barry fell down on the dirt floor in a huff, his arms forming a pillow for his head. _I am so tired,_ he thought, before he fell asleep to a blissfully empty dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lisa saves the boys; lots of thanks to me beta AngryBees for some much needed ideas :) 
> 
> My spring break ends today, updates will be a bit less frequent as I turn back into an adult woman with a job, college, and episodes of Steven Universe to catch up on… I might put myself on a schedule for updates after I see how this week goes, we'll see
> 
> Lots of thanks for the support and nice comments! It makes me really happy to see all the other people who ship the same couple as me :)


	7. 199 miles from Central City

Somewhere on a highway, 199 miles from Central City

Barry liked to wake up slowly, take a few moments to regain his consciousness and feel his surroundings. When he woke from the coma, that uncontrolled shock running through his body practically killed him- it had been painful. Every since then, slow mornings waking up were a joy.

He stretched his fingers out carefully first, grabbing a light fold of the cloth underneath him and then folding it out. As his mind felt fuzzy and sweet, he shook his elbows first, had a short clench and release of his abdominal muscles, and wiggled his feet. One of his feet was still in pain and the movement was far too slight- it wasn’t better, but the pain wasn’t overwhelming. Last time Barry had broken something it took about three days for him to be able to move it properly, and maybe in five days to be back to normal.

Barry sighed, rolled himself over onto his back slowly, and rested both his hands under his head as he let his eyes flicker open. It was rather bright, but long shadows from sheet of cloth hanging up by his feet kept the light from reaching him.

He wasn’t in the bed on the side of the RV, but the larger master bed. Someone apparently had stapled a dark blue bedsheet between himself and the open floor of the RV to give him a little privacy. It was a very nice gesture. Barry had apparently been laid down to sleep in black, basketball shorts and his sweatshirt.

His ankle had been wrapped up with two long metal planks (the ends seemed burned off) and tight, thick torn pieces of cloth wrapped tightly around it to hold him in place. Barry couldn’t believe he hadn’t woken up for that. In fact, the light around him was bright but seemed to be getting closer to dusk which meant Barry had slept through almost an entire day.

Barry’s head hurt, and he rubbed his hand up against his eye right when he started to yawn.

“You’re up,” Len said. He had opened up just a part of the curtain. He had a rag in his hand, and was dressed very simply in the same old t-shirt and jeans it seemed like everyone was wearing.

 _At what point did everything become gray,_ Barry wondered as he looked at Len’s shirt sleepily. He blinked several times, not quite functioning right after sleeping so long and having a slowly pounding headache from dehydration.

Len leaned on the side of the RV, half inside the curtain and half out. There was only a small bit of space between the bed and the side of the van so even if he did move a little forward he would have had to squeeze through that to walk- he’d probably have to climb all over the bed and that, Barry figured, would just look weird and undignified for the supervillain.

“Do you want me to get you something to eat?” Len asked. There was a long shadow over the top of his face that threw Barry off a little bit, and Len’s crossed arms on his t-shirt had a strong muscle definition. There was something a bit fascinating about the thickness of Len’s wrists and the curves of his deltoids.

Barry blinked again, looking at Len but not quite looking at him. He sat up slowly, hands feeling a bit like they were sinking into the soft cushion of the comforter. Barry’s eyes burned a bit still, feeling watery and painful. “Um,” he said, unable to quite remember what Len had asked because the little part of Barry’s consciousness that was awake had been distracted by arms. He rubbed his face, scratching the sand out of the corner of his eyes. Barry yawned again, his jaw clacking comfortingly as he did. “God,” Barry mumbled, “did I sleep through another year?”

He looked up at Len, who had this very strange expression on his face. It was some combination of anger and confusion, or something… Barry was a bit too tired to try and diagnose Captain Cold’s issues today.

“You slept through the night and most of today,” Len said softly. “I was worried you had a concussion.”

Barry chuckled, and rubbed a hand on the side of his cheek sleepily. “The master criminal worries about me, huh?”

Len frowned. “Don’t treat it like a joke,” he said.

Barry felt a bit more awake right then. A blush filled up his cheeks. “Right, I… sorry,” Barry said quietly. He lifted his uninjured leg up to his stomach, wrapping his arms around it and resting his chin on his knee.

“Don’t worry about it,” Len said quietly. The other man tapped his fingers against his arms, thinking about something, and then stepped forward swiftly and sat on the edge of the bed. The curtain was behind him now, giving the two at least the illusion of having some time alone as the RV droned on beneath them and Mick Rory could be heard mumbling something about the temperatures at which different objects up near the driver’s seat. “How are you feeling?”

Barry turned his head away from Len, looking at the other wall of the car as he felt the blood rising more and more on his face. “Fine,” he mumbled.

The loud humming of the car underneath left a soothing, vibrating pattern under their feet, the noise in their ears a constant, hardly noticeable grinding that yet kept getting louder and louder the longer neither Barry or Len said anything.

It just felt like everything that had happened between the two of them had happened in the worst way. From the moment Barry found out Leonard had some sort of feelings for him, to every little interaction since there was a hint of tension and confusion and frustration that seemed to plague everything they were doing. Barry knew now that _something_ was going on, and he hadn’t really even had to see Iris’ face (even if it was some sort of meta-human hallucination) to realize it, but still he’d had an epiphany when he’d seen her that more times than not seeing Iris just reminded him of the pain of having her not want him back. However much Barry had clung to the hope of Iris one day dropping everything she was working for with Eddie and being with him, he had always known it wasn’t fair for him to keep his happiness dependant on her. They’d been friends for so long, of course Iris wanted him happy, but Barry had, in a lot of ways, been forcing his happiness at her expense. So if he took some time and explored the possibility of finding that comfort he’d longed for so long with Iris with someone _else_ it would probably be the only good thing to come out of the apocalypse.

In a lot of ways, Len seemed like he could fit that role but in a lot of ways Len also seemed like too much.

But _damn,_ a sick part of Barry’s mind couldn’t help but feel amazingly flattered to have someone pining over _him_ instead of the other way around.

“I can leave,” Len said.

Barry turned his head over, still resting his chin on his knee but being able to meet Len’s eyes. “You don’t have to,” he said.

Len sighed, rubbing a hand into his shoulder. “We had to leave that one crazy guy behind,” he told Barry, “Lisa and I managed to salvage some useful things from the house before Mick burned it down.”

“Okay,” Barry said. Len’s hair was getting a little long, at least comparative to the buzzcut he’d had before. The light brown stubble on the man’s face was almost invisible but Barry knew it was there; he could remember feeling it on his chin when they’d kissed.

“We switched one of our tires with a spare in the other car, we made some pretty good miles these past few nights since Lisa hasn’t been able to sleep. She’s asleep now, though. She finally got a little tired, drank something and passed out on the couch.” Len had a prideful look on his face when he talked about his sister.

“It’s a good thing she was there,” Barry acknowledged.

Len nodded. “Lisa’s good.”

Len had a bit of a hard face, his eyes seemed to always be glaring at something and his mouth seemed to have a default setting of smug indifference. He raised his eyebrows and smirked whenever he did something clever, and there was a definite air around him of an easy, assured confidence that had inspired the respect of so much of the criminal underground. Len was smart, with the added fact that he knew it and yet didn’t throw it in anyone’s face like Hartley or Wells. He just _was_ intelligent and expected everyone else to know it.

“Again, I can leave,” Len said when Barry was silent for too long.

Barry let out a hard, shaking breath and gripped his hand tighter around his knee. He felt a bit pathetic, curled up like he was, but the position was comforting and all his muscles felt too sore to move. “Do you want to talk about the kiss now?” Barry asked.

“If you do,” Len replied.

Barry’s fingers punched the skin on his knee tightly, a nervous feeling building up in his chest that wasn’t going okay. “So… you kissed me,” Barry began slowly, “but to distract me from when you were about to fix my leg.”

“In hindsight,” Len said simply, “I probably could have just said, ‘oh look, a walker’.”

“You definitely could have.” _I’m kind of glad you didn’t,_ Barry thought, looking at Len and remembering how dark the man’s eyes had looked up close.

“You’re pissed?” Len asked, the words having a forced, empty quality.

“I-” Barry swallowed. He tapped his chin against his knee once, his chest feeling tight and uncomfortable in nerves. This conversation felt really important. Far too important to tackle right as he had just woken up, but Barry was afraid if he didn’t get out what he wanted to say now then Barry would never bring himself around to say it. He had a bad habit of holding secrets in. “I’m not really- I can’t really be the type of person to just casually-” Barry sighed, shook his head, and then gathered himself up a bit. He dropped his knee down, standing up a bit straighter and forced himself to face Len with confidence. “I don’t want to be with anyone who thinks of me as just some casual way to pass the time,” Barry said stiffly.

Len looked away for a moment, and when he turned back to Barry there was a smirk on his face and a victorious look in his eye. “Barry Allen,” he said, amused, “that is very far from a ‘no’.”

“So don’t treat it like a joke,” Barry said, repeating Len’s words from earlier.

“I could never,” Len said easily. He leaned forward toward Barry, his gaze powerfully focused as he looked directly into Barry’s eyes. “And if I _don’t_ think of you as a casual way to pass the time?”

Barry felt like he was running. His stomach was pounding and there was a lurching feeling in his stomach that he used to get as a kid when riding a rollercoaster and now he got everytime that electricity surged up over his body and he could feel the speed calling to him. Except Barry was painfully aware of how still he was being- the lack of motion felt like a rush in his ears. _Damn,_ Len looked like he was studying Barry. Like some kind of monster with ill-intentions, a cat playing games with a mouse, or that restful moment right before the rain hit where everything else in the world seemed to stop making noise.

“Did you…” Barry said, feeling the last bit of confidence he had being swallowed up in his utter loss for words. He was very evidently at a crossroads moment. One, say no and there was no more nervousness, random touching, or impromptu kisses from Captain Cold. Two, say yes and there was going to be a lot more than just shoulder touches and kissed from Len. Three, say absolutely nothing and just sit here in this bed forever until awkwardness and shame took pity on him and turned him into stone.

“Barry,” Len said as his voice dropped lower. He lifted his knee up on the side of the bed, sitting up fully on the mattress now. The dip that the weight of Len’s body made in the bed seemed to tilt Barry just a little bit toward him.

“Um-” Barry started.

“I think you’re a miracle,” Len said as he looked intently at Barry. “You are a stronger person than me and _far_ more ethical. I’ve surrounded myself with crap for a long time, but you showed up like a storybook hero and I had a very great time being able to frustrate someone as noble as you. Since, unfortunately, my response to everything good I see it to destroy it in some way.” Len’s face had a pained calmness to it as he held back expressing whatever emotions he was feeling. It took Barry only a moment to realize Len was also nervous. “I will probably not change any more, but I think knowing you, in whatever capacity, was something that needed to happen to me. So no, _Barry Allen_ , I do not think of you as a casual way to pass the time.”

Barry’s face burned as the heat rose up into his cheeks. “I’m not that special of a person,” he said.

“Debatable,” Len dismissed.

Barry looked at him, and Len watched him carefully. “So.” _Why not? Come on, why not? If this turns out to be awful, then it just turns out to be awful, Barry thought, no one says I can’t change my mind if I wanted. We’re so far away from Central City- away from Joe and Iris, my dad, Cisco, Caitlin… and anyone who could ‘know’, who’d be pissed at me for doing it and…_

Len set his hand down carefully on Barry’s leg, just laying it there. For some reason, that simple touch made Barry feel calmer.

“I guess I want to see where this goes,” Barry told him. And that was his decision, and Barry knew that was what he’d wanted to say since the moment he had seen Len standing over by the curtain.

“Okay,” Len said.

They looked at each other, a weird contentment and confusion passing between them. Barry thought it was nice. _And damn_ , Len looked nice. He _was_ nice; the man was highly attractive, really, with his strong features and smug stares there really wasn’t anything unattractive about his look.

“Do you want me to get you something to eat?” Len asked again.

Barry pulled himself up on his hands, moving his legs to his side with careful attention not to put any pressure on his foot. He had to set his hand down on Len’s leg to help pull himself up. It was slow, and Barry felt strange, but Len was calmly sitting there waiting on him. Barry wrapped his hand on the side of Len’s neck, thumb on the side of the man’s jaw, and gently pulled Len’s face down to meet his.

Len’s lips were soft on his, very still at first and then he pulled his lips away, pressing back against Barry’s mouth. His breath was hot on Barry’s face, and that feeling of running came back again even though Barry wasn’t moving at all, a hot pounding in his chest and that swift feeling of falling. Barry opened his mouth slightly, kissing the bottom of Len’s lips slowly.

Len’s hands rose up to hold Barry’s shoulders, encouraging them closer together. He turned his head, giving himself more room, pressing his mouth harder into Barry’s this time while his hands stroked slowly down from Barry’s shoulders to his wrists. Barry pulled his face away, lips lingering beside Len’s and with every little movement they would brush gentle against each other. He opened his eyes, looking at the close, soft expression on Len’s face just as Len’s eyes opened slowly to look at him.

Len looked dangerous. He leaned forward with serious intent on his face and Barry moved backward, until he was straight over Barry and the speedster’s back was against the bed. Len’s right leg moved over Barry’s side, until Len was directly over him, his hands pressed against the bed and their faces were so close their noses were still touching.

Len kissed him again, and tilted his head slightly to press his mouth against the side of Barry’s lip by his cheek, mumbling into Barry’s skin, “You know, I think this officially makes you one of my Rogues now.”

Barry grinned. “I don’t recall discussing that.”

“Don’t bother trying to deny it, _Flash,”_ Len said, slowly pressing his mouth into Barry’s lips again. His body was heavy, thick muscle form pressed against Barry, his jeans rubbed against the side of Barry’s thigh

. “Len,” Barry said, and then distracted himself with the sudden urge to kiss him, hard, over and over and over again. Which Barry did in the span of under a second because that feeling of running in his chest had the electricity speeding into his brain. He grabbed the sides of Len’s face, kissing him almost twenty times with speed that crackled under his fingertips before Barry let his head drop back down to the mattress with a satisfied grin.

Len raised an eyebrow. “That was interesting,” he said smugly.

“I got excited.”

“Good,” Len said, dropping his face to kiss the side of Barry’s cheek, his ear, then his neck. Len’s hands slipped down Barry’s chest, sliding the sweatshirt material down with his hand as his fingers moved lower and lower-

Barry grabbed Len’s wrist suddenly, stopping him from going any further. “I’m not sure I… I don’t think I can do that yet,” he said, embarrassed.

“Alright,” Len said calmly, “do you want to talk?”

“I mean, I liked what we were doing before.” Barry’s face flushed again. _Shit, I am an idiot,_ he thought, _a huge fucking idiot._

Len moved his mouth to kiss him again, and then stopped. “Are you _sure_ you don’t want something to eat?” He asked.

Barry _was_ hungry. He also hadn’t kissed anyone for way longer than he could remember, and Len was leaning right over him, pinning him on the side of the bed and he really, really didn’t want to move. “Yes, but no,” Barry said.

“You were asleep for awhile,” Len said, his hand reaching up and brushing Barry’s hair out of his forehead, “you should really eat something.” That small, tender motion seemed to change the whole atmosphere of the room, and suddenly Barry couldn’t stop smiling.

Barry really hated the way he looked when he smiled, he knew his nose scrunched up and his eyes squinted, and his mouth opened so wide his lips used to catch on his braces when he was younger and for some reason that horrible memory had to pop up _right now_ when Len was looking at him, cool and collected. But he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Five more min-” Barry started to say.

He was interrupted by a blast of noise from a radio as a loud, cocky voice suddenly shouted out from the driver’s seat, “ _Welcome, North America! This is your friendly neighborhood Green Lantern speaking announcing the introduction of anti-Zombie radio, a new broadcast out of Canada that is coming to you loud and clear through the power of… well, my ‘might’. Anyway, hold on tight, survivors of the apocalypse because Hal Jordan is going to save the bunch of you. In the meantime, here’s my associate with some handy dandy survival tips_.”

The radio turned down drastically after that, Lisa switching it far lower until the noise was at the level of a simple chat. “Len,” Lisa called out from the drivers part of the RV, obviously having woken up, “I think you need to come see this!”

Len frowned, looking at Barry before he turned his head to the side and said loudly back, “I heard that racket on the radio. We can discuss it in a momen-”

“Not _that,”_ Lisa yelled back, “you need to come see _this.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very excited to introduce more swashbuckling adventures and romance now :)  
> Thank everyone who liked and commented this fic it means a LOT and I am super happy to have this support for all my writing - (I've been having like way too fun a time writing this considering I posted up the first chapter on Wednesday, it'll be a week tomorrow which is crazy)  
> Anyway, again, thanks :)


	8. 198 Miles from Central City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: zombies

Somewhere on a highway, 198 Miles from Central City

The zombies almost seemed to walk in double file. Their lurched, sinister presence was focused straight to one area, and one area alone. Down the exit ramp of the highway. They were crossing the street as they seemed to march onward, as if by an invisible order from a silent master.

Barry had his arm wrapped over Len’s shoulder as the man propped him up, standing in between the front seats of the RV as the group wordlessly watched this strange and impossibly profound scene before them. The radio crackled quietly underneath them as some adjunct professor on _Hal Jordan Radio_ told the survivors to stuff snow between cracks in makeshift wood shelters to keep warm.

The last of the zombie march slowly trickled across the side of the highway. A few drawling eyes and low swinging faces turned and glances at the RV but they all continued in their path as in one solid, purposeful endeavor.

“I wondered why they don’t attack each other,” Len mused.

“I don’t get it,” Mick Rory said gruffly, and he looked from Lisa to Barry and then to Len. “I’m not sure what I am looking at.”

“Me neither,” Lisa mumbled, though for a different reason since she had a much stronger grasp on the situation.

“They travel in packs then, like hunters,” Len explained. He gestured up toward the wheel in front of Lisa, right as the group heard a loud, very human scream coming from some place just off the exit ramp of the highway.

Barry didn’t have much fear of the zombies himself, he was fast enough that any close encounter he’d ever had with them his super speed had instantly given him the advantage. He had never even been touched by them, and unless he was swarmed by them he would be fine. He knew numbers would make him weak, no matter how many of those zombies attacked him 1 on 1 Barry could never lose- _but_ if they came at him all at once, approaching from all directions, than just like when Barry was overtaken by Multiplex he wouldn’t be able to hold out for long.

Mick Rory hadn’t had a close call yet. Lisa’s ankle had been grabbed by a very young, child zombie about a week into the apocalypse and she’d been scratched (they’d watched her continuously for days to see if she would turn into one of the creatures, but thank god she was fine). Len had had two close calls. The first, when he’d been saving Lisa from the zombie at her ankle another grabbed onto his back but Mick shot it off. Second, in an ordinary raid on a gas station about a month ago when Barry had speeded past a rack of shelves, knocking it over and pinning Len underneath with a zombie coming at him from the side. Barry’d saved him, of course, though since Barry’d caused the situation in the first place there hadn’t been any ‘thank you’s from Len.

Everyone was still vulnerable whether they had superpowers or special-Cisco-mad-scientist-guns. The sight of all of those zombies, who could have swarmed on the RV if they’d only switched direction, was something that struck fear in Barry and which he was certain scared the others as well.

“There has to be one of them somewhere calling the shots. Each hoard we see could have a leader,” Len mused. “I’m going to step outside.” He unwrapped Barry’s arm from his shoulder, letting Barry lean his weight up against the side of the RV.

Barry pulled his arm away from Len’s grasp. “I’m going with you,” he insisted.

“You have a broken ankle,” Len dismissed, “I’m only going to follow them to see where we're going.”

 _“Should_ we be doing that?” Lisa asked, turning around in her chair to face them, “Don’t you think it might be better for us to start driving as fast as we can in the opposite direction?”She frowned at the two of them, and her gaze stopped on Len for a long moment, head tilting as she seemed to study him.

“I am also very much hoping to stay in the warm car,” Mick Rory agreed.

“If we’re going to survive these monsters at a later date we need to know everything we can about them. Seeing where they are going could give us a strategic advantage later on,” Len defended. He took one step back in the RV, grabbing his parka where it had been laying on the kitchen table. His glasses were in the pocket, and he slid that over his face and let it hang on his neck.

“You’re not going alone,” Barry insisted. No matter how tough and collected Len was there was still no way he would be able to take on a hoard of zombies if the creatures noticed him. “I have fast healing; I can definitely stand on my ankle now. If we bind it up enough I am sure I could run if the need comes.”

“Again,” Mick said gruffly, “is it worth it?”

“I say it is,” Len told him. The hothead seemed pissed at this immediate dismissal, but with a clenched jaw and a tense nod, Mick Rory seemed to indicate that he would go with Len’s decision.

“What are we going to do? Park all our supplies in the middle of the highway? Follow a dangerous army of undead to wherever their evil location is?” Lisa Snart said angrily.

Len shrugged. “Why not?”

* * *

 

They parked the RV on the side of the highway, dropping a thick tree down between them and the road to disguise it. Len froze some snow underneath the vehicle to trap it where it was so no one would be able to drive it off. He’d attempted to convince Lisa to stay behind, but when Barry had insisted to go Lisa said she had to go to 'save their stubborn asses again'.

They stomped down the exit highway ramp, Mick Rory’s heat gun on at a low temperature as he walked in the middle of them to give them just a little warmth. The sound of the undead was still beyond them, and even while stomping through snow and shivering against the biting cold the group would catch up to the hoard eventually.

Len had a timer running on his watch at Mick Rory and Lisa’s insistence. If they followed the hoard for longer than an hour and a half, the group was going to turn back.

The good thing about the biting cold was that Barry’s ankle, even as tied up and held in place as it was, ached with a vengeance. All the snow that shook its way into his boots cooled the burning pain. It was manageable, Barry had kept himself up and running on less.

He walked to the left of Mick Rory, following the lead of Len as the man trudged along through the snow. He could hear Mick’s teeth chattering at his side, and Lisa subtly cursing under her breath. Barry’s eyes fixed on the back of Len’s hood as they walked, the wind throwing faux fur liner of the parka in all sorts of directions.

They had been _kissing_ less than forty minutes ago and now they were tracking a hoard of zombies.

Recalling that whole moment made his chest feel warm and his face burn. Barry’s brain insisted that Barry should feel guilty about the whole thing and he really, really shouldn’t have done it. But the less logical part of him, the reckless side that he’d grown to listen to more and more the longer he was Barry Allen: _The Flash_ , and not Barry Allen: ordinary forensic scientist, that part of him was _skipping_ a fucking marathon at supersonic speeds.

It was really nice to have someone to stare at. Someone to distract him from the bleak death and darkness around him. Someone brilliant, someone strong, someone with biceps and cocky lips like-

As the snow sang around his ears, making him cold even with the Flash mask on his face and the sweatshirt hood tied up tight around his face, Barry let himself be distracted. He watched Len as they walked, remembering what it felt like to have someone that strong lying on top of him.

Why had it been so long since he’d dated a man? Men were great. Barry _loved_ it, he loved that archetype male body with suave confidence and strong presence and yes, he loved women too but sometimes _wanting_ something never really makes sense.

It was always easier to like women than men; the amount of anxiety and guilt he’d felt the first time Barry had seen a man and had feelings he couldn’t quite explain, he’d shoved the feelings deep inside. It was never easy trying to figure out if he was _one_ or the _other,_ flipping between binaries because he knew he liked Iris, he knew he liked women, and yet sometimes that exact same feeling came up in front of a man.

He had come out about it in high school to Joe and Iris, dated a boy he knew and had the all-American prom night, but after that they split up, Barry went to college and his sexuality never came up again except in private, google-porn searches on the internet. Barry had never even told his father.

“They’re stopping up here,” Len said, and everyone else’s heads looked up from where they’d been bent over bracing against the snow. _I need goggles too,_ Barry mused, _and a parka_.

He could just imagine that, the four of them in blue, black, yellow, and red parkas and goggles. Painting “ _the Rogues_ ” on the side of their RV; taking out zombies while yelling things like “You’re iced, motherfucker!” and “Try to keep up, slowpoke!” _I have an overactive imagination,_ Barry decided.

There was a short road on the side of the highway, like always, with a broken down gas station that looked like it had been abandoned long before the apocalypse. There was an empty, nondescript fastfood place with “for rent” signs on the windows which the zombies angled across as they headed toward a small, brown brick building with a high ceiling.

There was a field right beyond that, and on a billboard where it would be visible from the highway was white lettering on a black background announcing “HELL IS REAL”. The zombies pounded on the building, almost a hundred of them surrounded it, their efforts concentrating with sheer force of numbers at the doors and windows. The building seemed to be holding steady for the most part, it was old, the windows were large and low to the ground but seemed held together by steel.

“Alright,” Lisa said, pulling her gun out of its holster and resting it on her shoulder, “they’re after whatever is in there. We can’t get to that without taking on the entire group.”

“Then I suppose we’re done,” Len agreed simply as a scream came from that building. It was loud, sounding like a young girl and it was cut short without warning. “Ah,” he mumbled, “there’s people _in_ there.”

The undead seemed to grow more agitated when they heard the noise, the hoard of beings teeming with energy and unholy anger.

“I’m done,” Mick Rory announced, turning his back on the barn and trudging back the way they came.

 _“Mick,”_ Len said with a voice of warning.

“Fuck this. Fuck that. I’m cold, this is awful,” Mick said as he stepped carefully through their trail of footprints, “I’m cold. I’m wet. There are monsters everywhere. Fuck this. Fuck everything. I’m going back.”

Lisa gave a long glance to the building as she spoke, “I’m with Mick. There are too many of them. Whoever is still inside that place has to fend for themselves- whatever they did to attract those monsters is their fault.”

 _“No,”_ Barry snapped, glaring at them, “are you _kidding?!_ There’s a little _girl_ in there somewhere! We can’t leave without trying to help!”

Lisa Snart glared at him, and then stepped forward dangerously as her hand tightened on the gun at her shoulder. “Listen, hero cop-” _forensic scientist_ , Barry corrected in his head as she continued, “there are four of us and a fucking hundred of those monsters. I don’t know those idiots trapped in that fucking building and I don’t want to stay here another minute longer.”

“You’d rather let them die without even trying?” Barry said angrily, stepping forward and meeting her gaze. “If I have to fight a thousand of those damn things to save one person’s life I will.”

“And you’re going to do it on _one foot_?” Lisa smirked.

 _“Alright,”_ Len growled. Mick looked back, pausing in his journey back to the car. “I think everyone has some good points,” he said softly, taking a moment to look everyone in the eye. When his gaze fell on Barry, some sort of tingle of memory flooded back in Barry’s face of those eyes staring into his as they kissed. “And the only obvious, right thing for us to do here is to head back to the RV.”

Barry’s mood dropped instantly. _“No,”_ he insisted.

“Barry, there are far too few of us. We have four guns and two knives between us, and the _only_ one of us with _superpowers_ can’t use them-” Len tried to explain. Lisa and Mick shared a look of triumph, but Barry could barely register anything else happening around him.  Len couldn't _do this_.

 _“No,_ there are _people_ in there!” Barry said, gesturing toward the building.

“Barry,” Len said, and he reached up with his gloved hands to cup the sides of Barry’s head. Barry considered pulling away but he didn’t move. “I am not going to risk our lives for strangers. What would we do without you, or Lisa, or Mick, or even myself? We have a goal. The goal is to get to Central City.”

“I’m sorry,” Lisa said slowly, sidestepping to Len’s side, “when did this happen?” She looked between the two of them.

“In a minute, Lisa,” Len said. He kept his eyes on Barry, the whole of his gaze intent and focused. That attention seemed so profound earlier this morning but now just made Barry want to sink into the ground and disappear. “We are going back, Scarlet.”

Barry’s breath felt too hot as it slipped out of his mouth like a cloud, the cold around him so piercing and unnaturally strong. Those monsters out there groaned, growled, stomped, and moaned in the distance with the sound of creaking wood beneath their hands. “Okay,” Barry decided slowly. Len grinned with victory, but Barry held his hand out between them. “Give me the knife,” he said.

“Oh, fuck,” Lisa mumbled under her breath.

 _“No,”_ Len said.

“I am going to save the people in there. You can cover me or you can go back to the RV,” Barry said sternly, “if I make it I’ll catch back up to you.”

Len’s hands slid down off Barry’s face, clamping down on his shoulders as his expression grew angry. “We are not _heroes,_ this is not the time to be running around saving lives.”

“This is the _exact_ time to be ‘running around saving lives’,” Barry defended.

“Fine!” Mick Rory growled suddenly, hand turning up a dial on his head gun as he barreled forward through the snow, “Let’s just die and get this over with!”

 _“Mick!”_ Len yelled as the hothead rushed forward to the zombies, flames melting the snow in his path while the man yelled some sort of war cry. Lisa dropped her weapon in front of her, running behind Mick and shouting something about covering the hothead’s back. “Fuck, _fuck,”_ Len muttered under his breath. He reached into the side of his parka, pulling out a long, combat knife and setting it in Barry’s open palm, and then his hand went to the back of his jeans, pulling out a gun. He grabbed Barry’s other hand, setting the gun in it. “Stay _fucking_ next to me,” Len said to Barry, “do you understand?”

“I am going to do what I can to save those people,” Barry said as he curled his hands around the weapons.

“And I,” Len said, “am doing what I can to protect _my_ people.”

Barry speeded forward a few inches, his lips pressing roughly against Len’s, and then he raced forward toward the building. His speed was slow, a pressing pain on his ankle kept him from moving at full speed though the lightning cracked around him. It hurt.

The first undead hadn’t turned around when Barry jammed the knife into the back of it’s head. He pulled it out and the creature slowly, relative to Barry’s motion, fell down to the ground. Barry turned around swiftly, and the next zombie he moved toward suddenly turned to gold before he could touch it.

“Thanks!” He called out.

“Fuck you!” was Lisa’s reply.

Barry glanced at them, seeing Mick and Lisa standing back to back, holding a solid position as Mick’s fire kept the zombies at a distance, burning the ones that god close – _the smell! the smell was horrible! oh god, the smell of them burning_ – giving Lisa time to aim and shoot at any of them near.

He turned back to his side, seeing three of the creatures turning from the brick wall of the building and ambling toward them. Barry sped toward the first one, depositing the knife into its forehead. It stuck for a moment, as the creature fell it dragged Barry down with it. Barry aimed up with the gun then and shot the closest of the zombies- the bullet hit the creature’s chest and not its neck.

Barry jumped to his wobbling feet, leaving the knife. With two hands on the gun, he braced his foot back, aimed, and shot the monster in the skull. He shot the one next to it as well, and then dropped to the ground to recover his knife. The blade was really stuck there, and Barry had to grab the dead man’s skull with one hand to give himself enough leverage to try and wiggle the knife out of place.

Something cold passed over his back as he was bent over, and Len stepped into Barry’s peripheral vision. The man stood, like an immoveable force, over Barry and covered him until Barry got the knife out.

Barry stood, took a step forward, hissed at the pain, and then forced himself to access his speed, the electricity crinkling along his body and he raced forward. A pattern fell into place, as naturally as fighting occurs sometimes when the one opponent’s body and motions follow along and match your own. Len froze the monsters, Barry stopped them permanently; even with Barry’s slow speed and long turns the process worked, with the frozen zombies posing no threat to him as Barry approached them.

Lisa and Mick’s similar pattern wasted away the monsters, leaving a pile of burned ashes and golden, half-decayed skulls on their side of the building while Len and Barry’s results made a horrific, ice sculpture scene of frozen beings and dark red organs.

It was sickening, when Barry finally caught his breath.

The last of the monsters fell down to the floor, breaking in half at the hips as the legs were frozen to the ground. Barry held the knife at his side, walking carefully over the _Calvin and Hobbes_ winter scene while avoiding letting any part of the blood soaked metal touch his body.

Len’s gun lowered slowly. The man tilted his head side to side to relax his shoulders and dropped the weapon into its holster on the side of his pants.

Lisa and Mick still held their guns at the ready when they walked over to Len- the whole group just seemed to naturally decide to walk back to where Len was standing it seemed. Lisa’s face was slightly green from the smell, Mick didn’t look so good either, and Barry was very convinced that, having not eaten for almost two days, he wasn’t going to be able to stomach anything later either.

“That was easier than I thought it would be,” Len said smugly.

 _It was,_ Barry agreed.

The doors of the building opened up slowly, with a lanky, tall man holding a shotgun with trembling fingers look out toward them. He had deep black circles under his eyes, and his clothes were nothing but shreds on his body. The man’s eyes darted between the ashen, burned zombies, and the frozen ones with the holes through their skulls, obvious panic and fear crossing his face. “What do you want?” The man said loudly, voice like a yell. There were other people talking behind him, Barry could see a young girl hiding behind the man’s legs, staring out at them. He felt sick knowing the little girl could see the gory scene outside.

“My name is Barry Allen,” Barry said carefully. He stepped forward.

The man closed the door slightly and raised the shotgun.

Len, Lisa, and Mick all raised their guns.

“Whoa!” Barry jumped. He raised his hands in a peaceful gesture as he stood between the two groups. “Calm down, everyone-” He looked back to the survivor in the building. “I’m the _Flash,”_ Barry said, “a superhero. You’ve heard of me?”

The man shifted his weight awkwardly. “I’ve heard of you.”

“Okay, okay,” Barry said calmly. “We were on the highway when we saw those zombies heading toward here, we decided to follow them. When we heard that scream, my friends and I decided we had to come help you.”

“You’re all superheroes?” The man asked with wide eyes.

Barry looked at the Rogues behind him; Len smirked and Mick Rory outright laughed at the idea. “Uh… yes,” Barry said, “they’re my team. We’re just here to help you. Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“Who are they?” The man said carefully.

“I’m Captain Cold,” Len said, stepping forward next to Barry and lowering his cold gun to his side even if he didn’t let go of the tight grip he had on the weapon, “my associates, Heat Wave-” he gestured to Mick who gave a nod, “and Golden Glider. Mind if we step inside and warm up before we head back to our vehicle?” Len frowned at the man. “That’s the least you can do.”

The man closed the door. After a moment of loud, but indiscernible speaking behind them, the door opened wide again and the man dropped the gun to his side. “Alright,” the man said, “please don’t take anything. We have kids in here.”

“We won’t,” Len promised sincerely, right as Barry was about to say the same thing.

The man nodded. “The name is Stanford,” he said, and he stepped back to let them in.

Mick pretty much ran inside, pushing Barry’s shoulder when he did and forcing Barry to have to step aside to regain his footing. “Ouch,” Barry mumbled.

Len put his arm around Barry’s shoulder. “You overdid it,” he said.

“I’m fine,” Barry said, the cold clinging to Len’s parka made the gesture send a shiver down his back. He stumbled forward, but after a few steps but his own arm around Len and allowed the man to help bring him inside the building.

The place looked like any sort of shelter, a wide open space with a stage at the far back and chairs that had been stripped up of all their cushioning. Around the sides of the walls were piles of cushions and blankets forming makeshift beds, on the stage in the center was a large collection of supplies. There were about ten people inside including a young girl and boy and a pregnant women, they stood away from the Rogues with nervous curiosity. When Stanford shut the door behind them, keeping out the cold, the place instantly seemed warmer and Barry breathed a sigh of relief.

“We’ll only stay a few minutes,” Len said to Stanford.

“Thank you,” Stanford said genuinely, “thank you for saving us.”

* * *

 

“Bi'd damn heroes,” Mick Rory announced drunkenly, swinging the empty carton of box wine he had up in the air. He was sitting with his feet up on the dashboard, still wearing the same warm clothes he’d had on outdoors inside.

Lisa sipped a beer on her bed, the one on the side of the RV, as she glanced through a novel that, judging by the cover of a young woman holding a gun with a dark, city-scape beyond, was not the transmutation or engineering textbooks Len had told her to read.

 _Hal Jordan Radio_ played quietly, like a comforting undertone, on a battery operated radio Lisa had apparently found at the homestead. It was repeating the same survival tips from before, but the low, cracking hum of voices from a place as far away as Canada existed as a strong comfort.

Barry was sitting on the couch, slowly eating his way through a plate of bland rice and black beans, while Len sat next to him, reading a book on thermonuclear energy. They had about five books among them and all were what the Rogues had been taking with them when they were heading to the safehouse in Indiana. Len’s book was dog-eared, the cover falling off, with highlighted pages throughout and pencil notes in Len’s handwriting in the margins. His arm was stretched out along the back of the couch, the tips of Len’s fingertips touching Barry’s shoulder.

It reminded Barry of being in the van again, and for some reason it wasn’t until the exact moment that he realized Len was right earlier today- Barry _had_ become one of the Rogues now. Whatever that meant, Barry wasn’t sure. Barry likely would never have stolen the RV and the Rogues would never have risked their lives saving the people trapped in that building. There was some sort of a moral medium in flux.

“Bi'd _damn_ heroes,” Mick Rory repeated, louder.

“Yes, Mick,” Len said calmly.

“You see the way I burne’ those fuck’rs?” Mick said, pumping the box of wine up in the air like a trophy. “Like a go’amn hero.”

“I think you need to go to sleep, Mick,” Barry said.

“y’ur sitting on my bed,” Mick laughed.

 _Oh, right,_ the couch rolled out into the small futon that Mick slept in. Barry sat up, swallowing the last bits of his food. He set the dish in the sink with the rest of the undone dishes and stretched forward, cracking his back and balancing carefully on one leg. It wasn’t hard to get around the RV by hopping, since Barry always had something to hold onto. He had definitely aggravated his ankle; the limb had swollen up and blackened which Len through a fit over, but Barry couldn’t regret it.

He hopped over to the main bed, slipping through the curtain and falling down on the comfortable space with a sigh.

The curtained-off space was dark, but a small beam of light passed through when the curtains opened and Len stepped just inside. “Barry,” he said.

Barry sat up quickly. “What’s up?” He said, his chest starting to... _spark_ again. Everything felt far too new, strange, and weird. It was Leonard Snart, the master criminal with the smug face and the dirt tactics who went by the name _Captain Cold_ and yet he was also Len, the leader of this ragtag group of survivors who was taking them back to Central City.

“There are no other beds,” Len told Barry, “mind if I take the other side?” He frowned and raised his eyebrows at Barry’s confused expression.

“Oh! Oh, that- that does make sense,” Barry stumbled over the words, “yeah, that’s fine.” He could feel heat rising up in his face so he grabbed for the blanket at his feet and pulled it up, lying down on the bed.

Barry looked directly at the wall, but his other senses felt heightened as they tracked the way Len moved carefully across the room, stripped off his jeans until he was only in his boxers- it was _really_ hard not to look- and lifted the same blanket, climbing into the other side of the bed. Barry could feel Len’s eyes on the back of his neck.

“We got heated back there,” Len said quietly, the words barely at a point above a whisper for the sake of privacy. Barry was happy to have the curtain, but alone wasn’t exactly _alone_ when they shared the RV with Mick and Lisa. “Are you and I alright?”

“What?” Barry turned over in surprise, looking up at Len. “Of course we are.”

“Good,” Len said stiffly. He turned over immediately, resting his head on the pillow with his back to Barry.

Barry slowly did the same. It took him a long time to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Rogues become big damn heroes and finally get to fight some zombies
> 
> Proper sleeping arrangements are made
> 
> Thanks everyone for sticking with the story and giving me lovely comments and kudos :)


	9. 147 Miles from Central City

Walmart Supercenter, 147 Miles from Central City

Len held the long, square package up to his mouth, shaking his head sadly and looking at Barry with humor in his eyes. “Terrible,” Len said, “so many of these poor things lying around, unused.”

“Would you like to be standing in an aisle of _used_ condoms?” Barry asked.

 _“Barry,”_ Len took a step closer, dropping the package of condoms into the bag Barry was holding in his hand, “I knew you could _run_ fast but didn’t know that power extended to your-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Barry warned.

Walmart was great and a _Walmart Supercenter_ was even better. The Rogues had stopped an outlet mall on the highway, getting gas for the RV and glancing through whatever else was useful. An athletic equipment store hadn’t been touched, and the group had tossed all of their old, ratty, graying clothes out for new, comfortable, and warm outdoor running gear.

Barry had a nice, long red running jacket, a red beanie to match, black thermal shirt, long dark blue thermal leggings, black shorts, thick running socks, and a brand fucking new trail running sneakers. It was so warm. He could hardly believe how many clothes he had now and Barry’s mind kept going through them on a repeat. He’d almost thrown on seven layers of clothing just because the sensation of something clean on his skin was so brilliant. It was nice to have clothes to wear besides the Flash costume, which had been getting ripe. And new underwear? New underwear was the most luxurious feeling in the world.

The _running_ sneakers. The beautiful, _fitting,_ comfortable running shoes were leagues away from the horrible construction boots Barry had been wearing before. He’d taken every single pair he’d been allowed to, stuffing all of them under the bed.

Then the group, fully clothed in great new gear, shoved their asses into a Walmart Supercenter nearby to get anything else they could possibly need because the apocalypse was being super nice at the moment.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Len apologized with dripping insincerity. He rested his hands on the sides of Barry’s cheeks. “You’re cute,” the man said with a tone that made it clear he _knew_ he was pushing Barry’s buttons. Len still had his parka- it was warmer than anything before and the man seemed personally attached to it, but he’d outfitted himself in blues, whites, and blacks that Barry thought were rather attractive on him.

Everyone was in a really good mood. Mick was throwing fits over the lighter fluid and dirty magazines he’d found at the convenience store, Lisa was ecstatic over shampoo bottles and scotch, and Len was… pretty excited by pharmacy aisle, apparently.

Barry hit Len on the head with the box of condoms. “Stop.”

Len looked Barry right in the eyes. “Why?” He asked carefully, eyes searching over Barry’s face.

Barry took a moment to figure out a reply, but when it came he said it with a wide grin on his face. “Because you aren’t planning on using these all alone, are you?”

“True,” Len admitted, his thumb brushing along the side of Barry’s cheek, “though since these worked so well for trade the last time we should be stocking up on them anyway.”

Barry grinned and batted Len’s hands away. “You’re going to take an entire aisle of sex supplies in the RV ‘for trading purposes’, that’s not intimidating,” he said, stepping forward and grabbing the front of Len’s parka in his hands. He pulled the man toward him, until their bodies were almost touching and that warm, but sharp wintery smell of Len seemed to be surrounding him. Barry was really, really getting addicted to being around Len. Len raised an eyebrow.

“Getting a little nervous about your future performance, Scarlet?”

“Oh _please,”_ Barry insisted, “I got-”

“Worried you won’t be up to speed?” Len had to add.

Barry rolled his eyes. “Stop.”

“Getting cold feet?”

Barry kissed him, because it was funny and because it was so nice to be in a good mood. Even Len hadn’t been able to fight off the allure of good clothes, the high of having saved people’s lives four days ago, and that… infectious _thing_ that had the two of them somehow always following each other around.

For four days after they’d been together, after they’d kissed on the bed, killed zombies, and fallen asleep next to each other, Barry had decided life was so much _better_ around Len.

When Len went to the front of the car to drive, Barry went up with him and they quietly listened to _Hal Jordan Radio_ \- which was now a rather maddeningly series of sad testimonies from various survivors about their experiences along with the chipper and upbeat message of “ _I’ll save you all! Always check yourself for bites_ ” message from that Hal Jordan guy. When they ate, they sat on the couch and Len put his arm around Barry’s shoulder. Len was now always making excuses to touch Barry’s hair, his neck, arms, and Barry just found himself following Len around even the small area of the RV. They spent every day within ten yards of each other but the excitement that accompanied a new relationship made even that space seem unbearably large.

Lisa was getting ready to kill them.

Barry knew they were awful. Len was flirtatious all the time and Barry was always encouraging it. Barry made Len oatmeal once and Len used it as an excuse to spend an hour with his tongue down Barry’s throat in the front seat; and Barry had insisted Len rewrap Barry's injured ankle every couple hours as an excuse to awkwardly cuddle on the bed. It was annoying Lisa to death (although Mick Rory seemed to either be oblivious or not care at all).

Now, with the mood of general pleasantness, the feeling of new clothes, and the security of having fresh supplies in the RV, Barry couldn’t help but feel like he and Len could go just a little bit _farther._

Barry’s mouth pressed awkwardly against Len’s lower lip. He let his hand rest on Len’s chin, holding the man against him as the other man responded quickly, body pressing flush against Barry’s own and his mouth pushing hungrily into Barry’s.

The other man’s teeth brushed on his upper lip, and Barry struggled to turn his face to the side, slip his mouth against Len’s because he just wanted lick the inside of Len’s mouth. Barry needed to taste him, he wanted to breathe in that wintery smell that hung on Len’s body, he wanted to absorb the man’s confidence- Barry wanted to get _laid._

Barry was always been the one to stop things when they got too heavy. His brain would summon the intrusive thought of ‘ _but this is Captain Cold_ ’ and he’d hesitate, thinking that Barry just needed some time to cool down and see if this _thing_ between the two of them would last.

But it was. Things were lasting, it was good, and this waiting was getting boring.

“Wow,” Lisa’s voice intruded on the scene as she walked passed their aisle, “making out in the sex supplies aisle, very original.”

Barry pulled away, and Len turned his head sharply to glare at his sister. “For _fuck’s sake_ , Lisa,” Len snapped.

They _were_ supposed to be collecting supplies and bringing them back to the RV, so Barry stepped away from Len. “Yeah, for fuck’s sake, Lisa,” he repeated good-naturedly, but Barry went back to the aisle, finding bottles of aspirin and vitamins to put in his bag, “but we should get back to this.”

Len had a very pissed off expression and his jaw clicked as he grinded his teeth against each other. “Of course,” he said, annoyed, as he grabbed another box of condoms, tearing open the cardboard and dropping the individual pieces in the open dufflebag on the floor.

“You could be a poster child for sexual frustration,” Barry said as he looked at Len with a grin.

Len glared, grabbed a tube of lubricant without looking and dropped it in the bag; his expression was intense. “I am fine,” he said. The barely contained, predatory gaze in Len’s eyes sent shivers down Barry’s back everytime he saw it.

Barry went back to raiding the Walmart’s supply of Omega-3 and Vitamin C, and Len just went back to doing whatever the hell he was doing. Until one minute passed by, and it felt like an eternity without Len’s attention. “You don’t want to have sex with me at _all?”_ Barry asked with mock horror, turning to Len and trying to keep a straight expression on his face but he failed miserably.

Len groaned with frustration, dropping the box he was holding back on the shelf to rub his hand over his head. _“Barry,”_ he warned.

“What?” Barry said seriously. He walked back up to where Len was, the limp Barry had was hardly noticeable now. “Can I tell you-” Barry started to say, but he was interrupted by a loud _thunk_ as something heavy dropped to the floor which was accompanied by the tell-tale surging sound then _clink_ of Lisa’s gold gun shooting off.

Len’s hand immediately dropped to his holster. “Lisa,” he said loudly, his voice tinged with warning.

Barry’s hand moved to the knife holster along his waist.

“I have a dead one and a live one here,” Lisa yelled. There was a muffled _humf_ noise of someone trying to talk, and then something hard was hit against a piece of metal.

Barry speeded forward, electricity surging around him in his ears, and he was at Lisa’s side in only a moment.

Lisa was standing over a living person who was curled in a ball, holding her head which Lisa had apparently just kicked into the floor. A now-golden-headed, unanimated zombie body was smashed up against one of the freezers on the side of the aisle, its decaying flesh looking not out of place with the dead and rotten fish parts behind it.

“That is not _nice,_ Lisa!” The woman yelled. She let go of her hair, a wild halo of black curls with one half pulled back into a braid, and she was wearing a thick leather jacket, a long checked scarf, and an expression that said _murder_ in more ways than one.

“Shawna,” Lisa said, recognizing the meta-human criminal in front of her.

“I know her,” Barry said, and he grabbed Lisa’s shoulder and pulled Lisa away from the woman quickly. “She’s a meta-human she can teleport-”

“I know _that,”_ Lisa said angrily, “she’s also an _ass.”_

“Okay look,” Shawna Baez said slowly, sitting up from the floor and still rocking her head, “I am really sorry about taking your cut of the art-”

“The only reason,” Lisa’s entire form seemed to shake with anger and Barry backed off of the woman slowly, “I _decided_ to help you in your little Valentine’s Day quest was for _my_ Monet.”

“It wouldn’t have done you too much good now,” Shawna said apologetically with a gesture around her.

Lisa lowered the gun to aim at Shawna’s face.

“Alright, alright,” Leonard said as he stepped into view with Mick Rory following closely behind him, “what is going on? Lisa? Barry?” He glanced to the woman lying on the floor. “Shawna?”

“How do you all know each other?” Barry asked incredulously. He’d met Shawna because the woman was a petty thief who had broken her boyfriend (or not boyfriend? Barry was unclear) out of jail and then grown a little unstable. Barry had been _sure_ though that they’d locked Shawna up in STAR Labs. _Although,_ Barry mused, _with Harrison Wells aka the Reverse Flash in charge of the keys, who knows how long she stayed there?_

“How do you…” Shawna stared at Len, Lisa, Mick, and then pointed at Barry, “know _the Flash_?”

“Look, Peek-a-boo,” Lisa said carefully, “why don’t you stay away from out little grou-”

“No,” Len said immediately.

Lisa glared at her brother. “No?” 

“Shawna,” Len asked, “are you traveling with anyone?”

Shawna stared at the four of them again. “No…?” She said slowly and suspiciously.

“Want to travel with us?” Len offered.

“Wait!” Barry protested.

“Yeah,” Lisa agreed, “I am _actually_ siding with Barry on this one."

Shawna slowly pulled herself up to her feet, raising her hands in a gesture of peace. Her eyes darted to the exit of the store and she was obviously planning to ‘jump’ if anything went haywire. “Alright, Cold,” she said carefully, “why would you want to travel with me?”

“You have a history with medical science and first aid. We’ve had scrapes and a broken bone and not a single clue what to do about it,” Len replied. He had a tone in his voice that dared any of the Rogues to defy his logic. “If you have no one to travel with, we are heading to Central City and plan to wait out the winter there.”

 _And find my friends and family,_ Barry added in his head.

“Mick has a gun that generates heat, so this is a rather stellar offer in my opinion,” Len told her. He swung his cold gun onto his shoulder. “Besides, you didn’t screw over _my_ part of the Louvre job.”

Lisa steamed silently, her face glaring at Shawna with an expression of utter vitriol.

“So… when did you guys rob the Louvre?” Barry asked.

“Three months ago?” Mick Rory answered Barry.

“Why?” Barry asked Mick, since the other three seemed to be involved in some sort of intense staring contest.

“I don’t know,” Mick confessed, “Len wanted something there, everyone else was allowed to take one thing. I took a plate with flames on it.”

Barry sighed. _Criminals. Always more criminals. Why can’t we find Oliver or Laurel and team up with one of them?_

“I won’t bother you, I promise,” Shawna said sincerely, appealing to Len only. “I’ve-” she hesitated and then added, “I’ve been here alone for weeks. The person I was traveling with was…” and then she gestured to the undead person beside her, “and I couldn’t bring myself to _you know_.”

Barry felt bad for her. Even if at one point Shawna Baez had tried to kill him; and he had locked her up in the prison at STAR Labs and… Barry suddenly felt trapped. He was surrounded all day by his former enemies and now here was another.

“We should make it a vote,” Lisa said angrily, flipping her hair to the side as she steadied her grip on her weapon, “it’s only fair, since all of us would have to share the RV with her.”

Len considered for it for a moment and then shrugged. “Fine, fair is fair.”

“I vote ‘no’,” Lisa said immediately. She looked at Barry and Mick carefully. “Do we really need another person to eat our food? Where would she sleep? She’s proven she’s not trustworthy-”

“I mean, the _Flash_ is pretty untrustworthy and I’m eighty percent sure that guy over there is the Flash without his mask,” Shawna said confidently.

Mick Rory gave Shawna a weird smile and said, “I vote ‘yes’.”

Lisa seethed. _“Mick!_ Are you serious?” Lisa stepped forward angrily, glaring at Shawna in the eyes but the other woman returned her gaze confidently. “Shawna, I don’t care what _super powers_ you have if you cross _any-”_ she gestured behind her at the three men, “of the Rogues I will personally tear those eyes out of your head and let you freeze to death.”

“Barry hasn’t voted yet,” Len raised his hand to indicate a pause, “and he’s the deciding vote; I’m going with whatever the majority is. Barry?”

Shawna repeated Barry’s name under her breath, her eyes glaring at Barry until she seemed to remember she was supposed to play nice and she smiled.

“I’m not going to leave anyone out here alone,” Barry said immediately, though he sort of regretted it. Not the type of regret that would change his decision, but he still didn’t like the outcome.

Len nodded and turned to Shawna. “Do you want to come with us?”

“Yes,” Shawna said with a frown.

“Then she comes with us, Lisa,” Len said.

Lisa turned around sharply, glaring at Len and then Mick, and then with stomping feet she announced that she was heading off to finish loading the freeze-dried noodles into the car. Mick shrugged, handed Len a magazine he’d found and then he went back to look for whatever it was that was interesting Mick Rory at the moment.

“Are you the Flash?” Shawna asked quietly, crossing her arms over her chest and staring.

Barry glanced at Len. “I mean,” he said, turning back to Shawna, “yeah. I am with the Rogues now but- I’m not… a criminal at all. We’ve been traveling together this whole time and it’s…” Barry hoped someone would interrupt him but no one did, “it’s gotten complicated. But yeah, I’m the Flash. You can call me Barry if you want since we’ll be living together and all.”

“It was _not_ fun in that prison,” Shawna said seriously. Her eyes were hard and she leaned forward slowly to emphasize her point. “It was _cruel,_ you and your people were cruel. I only got out because of the Yellow Flash.”

“The Reverse Flash actually put you there also too he uh…” Barry noticed the confusion across Len’s face and suddenly remembered he hadn’t told any of the Rogues anything about his life as the Flash, “my mentor, Harrison Wells, he was the Reverse Flash.”

Shawna blinked. “Okay, _weird.”_

Barry nodded.

“So, you travel with Captain Cold now?” Shawna asked, glancing to Len who hadn’t made any indication that he wanted to join the conversation or leave them alone.

“They saved my life in Indiana and… well, Lisa saved my life again only about a week ago so it’s complicated,” Barry explained half-heartedly.

“He’s… you know, he is the _Flash,”_ Shawna said to Len.

“It’s fine,” Len answered her unasked question, “Barry’s too noble to pull any dick moves and he and I are in the midst of something. You don’t have to worry about him whisking you away to another underground prison without a fair trial.”

“It wasn’t like _that,”_ Barry tried to defend.

“It was,” Shawna said viciously, “it really was. It was cruel.” She took a step back and sighed.

“He’s not that terrifying when you get to know him,” Len said calmly.

“I’m _terrifying,”_ Barry scoffed, “I’ve never been called _terrifying_ before.”

“Are you just completely ignorant about your own superhuman capabilities? Do you honestly just forget about the fact you can run faster than sound? Because you _seriously_ seem to be an idiot,” Shawna said angrily. “

Shawna, you can spontaneously transport your body anywhere your eyes can see.  Why don’t you calm down, find Mick, and let him tell you what supplies to bring to the RV,” Len assured her, “you’ll get used to being around Barry eventually.”

Shawna gave Leonard a long look before she walked away, dragging her boots along the floor of the Walmart slowly as she watched Barry out of the corner of her eye. When she reached the next aisle, she disappeared into the air.

Barry frowned at Len. “Terrifying?”

Len shrugged.

“Seriously, Len,” Barry asked. The idea wasn’t a comfortable one to him, Barry was just _Barry;_ he had always imagined himself as the good guy, the hero, the white knight with the superpowers. Even before that, he’d taken more than a little pride in being the person who always did the right thing.

“A good superhero scares the criminals,” Len said. “You scare Shawna. You scared me when we first met. That’s the whole point of people like you: that’s why the green Arrow in Starling City wears a mask I’m sure.”

“Do you… do you trust her?” Barry asked him.

Len frowned, lifting a hand to his head to scratch at the hair that was growing on top of it which always seemed to be bothering him. “I don’t know if I do yet, but I know if this turns out to be a mistake the four of us can handle her. I trust our group enough.” “Do you trust me?” Barry looked at Len, suddenly noticing how tired the other man seemed. It was always fun distracting each other and acting like the apocalypse was something far away, but the pressure of everything they dealt with was as evident as the rotting smell of the half-gold corpse at their feet. “I trust you,” Barry told Len seriously. He sped forward, lightning curling at his sides, and wrapped his arms tight around Len’s shoulders with his chin resting on the man’s shoulder in a hug. “Probably shouldn’t, but I do at this point."

Len held his arms on Barry’s waist and pulled them closer. “I trust you,” Len told him, “you’re a good man, Barry Allen.” Len moved away then, and Barry let go of his grip on the other man’s shoulders.

“That’s good considering we sleep together every night,” Barry joked. He punched Len’s shoulder and immediately regretted it because _fuck, that was weird_.

“Finish getting the supplies,” Len said, “I have to go find the manager’s office of this place.”

“I’m going with you,” Barry said automatically.

“Why?”

Barry frowned. “I don’t know. Back up? There was one undead here.” _Because we always follow each other around?_ Barry thought, _I mean, I thought that was what we were doing for four days_. The idea that maybe that was a problem hadn’t occurred to Barry until this moment.

“I don’t need you to come,” Len said with an edge to his voice.

Barry could feel color rising to his face. “Right!” He said, embarrassed, “Sorry. I know, I shouldn’t be- Sorry. I’ll go back to getting the vitamins.”

Len’s eyes widened with recognition and he sighed, rubbing his forehead like he had a headache. “No, _fuck,_ Barry that’s not what I meant.”

“I get it,” Barry said. He wanted nothing more than to run away from the conversation and he could hear the faint tapping of the bottom of his running shoes as they vibrated on the floor preparing him to bolt at any moment. “People need time alone and I’ve been… clingy.”

“You’ve been _fine,”_ Len promised. The man clenched his jaw and then said with painfully forced words, “I am going to go get off.”

Barry couldn’t figure out whether to be more embarrassed or relieved. “Oh.” He said. “The time we’ve been spending together has been fine,” Len assured him, “and I really enjoy everything we’ve been doing-”

Barry interrupted him. “We just haven’t been _doing_ much of anything.” Len grimaced, and he looked like he was going to apologize but Barry shook his head. “I’ll just… get back to work with those vitamins,” Barry said quickly, and he sped off back to the aisle he was at before he could look at Len again.

It was a pity that the aisle looked exactly the same as it had before, with that dufflebag on the ground with the condoms and the same dim, lighting and brightly basic colors from when Barry was there about twenty minutes ago. The memory of the banter and teasing from before felt more than a little awkward at this moment as Barry realized just how frustrating it had probably been for Len, never quite knowing if the flirting was actually going to lead to something _else_ or if they were still just fooling around.

Len had always been game for more, which had been clear from the beginning. And Barry was _too,_ but he had wanted to wait until he was sure this wasn’t a feeling that was going to go away within a day of hanging out with the man. Then cold feet. Awkwardness. And the fact that Barry had just started to enjoy the banter so much.

Barry was frustrated too. He wanted more.

Part of Barry’s brain wanted him to get back to focusing on the task of _new, dangerous, meta-human criminal has joined the group_ but the majority of his efforts were solely fixated into remembering how Len had looked when the man had told him he trusted him. _A stupid gesture_ , Barry thought, _which doesn’t mean anything._

Barry meandered slowly through the aisle, setting his back down on the ground as he continued to glance at expiration dates on containers of Omega-3 vitamins.

 _This new girl might be a problem,_ Barry wondered, _though we couldn’t have left her if she had actually been stuck her alone. And I guess she has some history with the Rogues because if there’s anything Len is good at it is bringing together everyone who wants to kill me._ The pessimistic thought came from nowhere, and Barry sighed and rested his head on the cold metal of the shelf.

He stayed in that position for a second, looking at his hand as he turned over a bottle of fish oils over and over in his hand like he was playing with a sand timer.

 _I could go find him,_ Barry thought, _or I could just wait here._ Barry was not the type of person who liked to sit around and do nothing. That was even more evident in relationships. Barry had always been the type of person to throw out all the stops and make a grand gesture just because he could.

If he was _dating_ Leonard, then Barry figured he should act like it. If he was fooling around with Leonard, or blowing off steam, or passing the time while he waited to reach Central City, than Barry could justifiably do nothing and let the interaction between him and Len stay a fun excuse to forget about the undead and have someone always available to talk to.

The only other time Barry had spent so long trying to decide if he should be in a relationship was the last time, and only other time, he’d dated a man. He was starting to wonder if his cold feet were less related to Len being Captain Cold and more to the fact Barry hadn’t seen another man naked since _Lost_ was a thing.

Barry didn’t even know what to _do._ Which one? Which one of them? Was it him? Who would-

Barry took a deep breath, letting it out, and he set the bottle of vitamins on the shelf carefully. He positioned it, letting the clear label stand out perfectly in front of him for no particular reason at all but to give him half a second of a delay. Barry set the bag down, and then he ran.

Lightning. Ungodly power. The sensation of falling from the top of a roller coaster. And all of that strangely familiar jazz.

He skidded to a halt right behind Len as the man was opening a door, and Barry grabbed at the glossy papers that Len was holding at his side. He pivoted around Len’s form just as the man opened the door, and bolted his way inside as a form of electricity.

There was a big comfy loveseat in the corner of the room right by a lamp, a bit removed from the far more uncomfortable looking block desk and seat, so Barry dropped himself down onto that with a huff as dust flew up into his nose. He sneezed.

“Hi,” Len said, annoyed and confused. The man stepped in the room and shut the door behind him.

Barry lifted the magazine up and looked at the title. “Gay England?” He frowned. There was a photo of a pale, male model type with shoulder length black hair and underwear that looked stuffed.

“I didn’t pick it out, Mick found it at the gas station apparently.” Len folded his arms in front of his chest, standing with his feet shoulder length apart, looking both very put together and intensely uncomfortable.

“Right-e-o, chap,” Barry said with a salute.

“That’s… don’t do that.” Len frowned.

Barry threw his feet up on the side of the loveseat, sitting in it sideways, and opened the magazine up as he looked at it over his head. He felt a bit giddy at the moment and knew the excitement coursing through him had nothing to do with his superspeed. “Why a gay magazine?” He asked. The table of contents announced the names of porn stars Barry didn’t know, articles on things he’d hadn’t heard of, and something about the ‘best clubs for a shag’ and Barry didn’t know what that meant at all but assumed it was some sort of secret code he’d never been privy to.

“Because I am gay?” Len offered.

“Oh,” Barry was surprised. “You don’t seem gay.”

Len raised an eyebrow incredulously. “Barry,” he said slowly, “are you forgetting that the two of us-”

“No,” Barry defended, “I just didn’t-” He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d thought. Barry flipped to the centerfold in the magazine just because. “Oh, gross,” Barry said, shutting the magazine immediately when he was treated to the sight of a steroid muscled man with a hand up his anus. “Gross.” He tossed the magazine aside. “Gross.”

Len looked amused.

“That was _horrifying,”_ Barry said, “that’s why no one should _ever_ buy convenience store porn. Don’t pick that thing up, it’s awful. We should burn it.”

“Are you jealous of a magazine?” Len’s voice was lower, coming from deep in his throat, and he slid off his parka and let it fall to the ground. He started unbuckling his holster from his shoulder and waist.

Barry immediately felt tense. “No,” he swallowed, “I just think it’s useless.”

“Useless?” Len repeated. He held the holster with the cold gun over the parka and dropped the weapon to the ground. The blue and white thermal shirt he was wearing was tight enough to accent pretty much every part of him, and Barry couldn’t help but compare him to the two second glimpse he had of the men in the magazine.

Len’s body was something Barry _liked_ a lot. Len was fit and strong but he didn’t look like he was going to be pumping irons with Arnold Swartzeneggar anytime soon. There was just a little bit of softness in his form that Barry had always been able to feel- something that made touching Len _comfortable._

“You have me,” Barry said nervously, “you don’t really _need_ it.” He’d imagined the words sounding far sexier and inviting when he’d rehearsed it two seconds ago.

Len pulled off his shoes and stepped forward. “How much do I have you?” He asked, his voice a low rumble in his stomach that sent shivers down Barry’s back and his expression so strong and intense Barry almost looked away. Len lowered himself down to his knees, bracing his strong arms on the edge of the loveseat.

Barry swallowed.

“Hey,” Len said softly. He brushed Barry’s cheek with the side of his hand. “You don’t have to.”

“I really want to.” Barry stared at Len for a long moment. With a surge of confidence he reached out, hands looping on the belt of Len’s jeans and he pulled the other man up onto the loveseat with him. Len’s body straddled him, the weight of the other man a now familiar pressure, and he rested his arms along the sides of Barry’s. Barry’s fingers started to vibrate involuntarily, and he could feel excitement coiling up the muscles in his toes as they dangled off the ends of the loveseat.

Len grinned, his thumb tracing along Barry’s lower lip. “I did wonder what it would be like to have you at my mercy, Scarlet,” he said slowly.

 _Fuck,_ that smirk on Len’s face was close to the hottest thing Barry had ever seen. He ran through his brain for a reply, and could think of nothing better but to tug off the belt on Len’s jeans, lean forward, and say, “Show me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have such a lovely time writing banter
> 
> It's a very long chapter just because, and I am also pretty excited about having Shawna in the group now. We are getting closer to Central City and Barry's group which will be interesting to write
> 
> Again, thanks for all the love and support you've been giving my writing it means A LOT :)


	10. Stress Management

 

Walmart Supercenter, 147 Miles from Central City

Len sat like the Godfather, his hands resting carefully on his knees and his back leaning back contently on the loveseat. His legs were spread shoulder-length apart and his heels tapped on the floor. He had some power in his stance and the predatory smirk on his face. And Len was naked, which was actually only adding to how intimidating he seemed.

Barry kicked off his shoes and socks. "Come here," Len said quietly. He reached his hand to grip Barry's shirt and pulled Barry closer to stand between his legs.

"You know I could just speed change out of this," Barry said nervously. His knee knocked into the side of Len's thigh and he straightened himself up immediately.

"Sometimes you just need to cool down," Len said with a smirk. He let go of Barry's shirt and let his hand drag down along Barry's chest.

Len was naked and Barry was incredibly into it. Len was gorgeous, he was attractive, he was so fucking beautiful- it was throwing Barry off. Barry loved sex, Barry decided, he really loved it. It was completely grand and he shouldn't have hesitated so long.

Len was a muscular man with hard features and gently toned muscles, his body was an attractive combination of fitness and relaxed comforts- someone Barry could stare at with envy and yet he wanted to crawl on top of Len's thighs and have those thick arms wrap around his shoulders and draw him close.

Len had tattoos, which made sense once Barry saw them though he hadn’t quite been expecting it. There was a dark Celtic star tattoo right under Len’s right clavicle, the pattern a thick and perfectly interwoven knot of unending curves; on the bottom of his right ribcage was an American Traditional (yes, Barry had seen _Inkmaster,_ he had a basic knowledge of tattoos) roughly done prison tattoo with a simple woman’s face, long blonde hair, and dark blue and black outline, with words underneath in a heavy script that interwove with so much flourish Barry couldn’t quite make it out. The last one was on Len’s left thigh; it was a large piece of varying darkness of lights to heavy blue. Barry had only seen it for the few minutes Len had been naked in front of him but the design of that piece was his favorite.

Barry traced his forefinger over that pattern on Len’s legs as the other man watched him silently. The design was a light blue skull, a crack under the eyes, with icicles hanging off of it as the skull breathed out frozen air laced with snowflakes. “ _Captain Cold_ ,” Barry said fondly.

It was hard not to avoid staring at Len’s groin even with the tattoos as a distraction. The man was long and thick, his soft cock close to Barry’s knees. Len was circumcised, which looked nice and Barry was too actually so somewhere in their pasts they had some kind of similar Hebrew or Judeo-Christian-influenced American-culture roots that they could bring up another time-

Barry liked the look of _it,_ he liked that it was actually bigger than the only other man he’d ever seen to compare it with, and the way even soft there was a bent edge to it- the way that the head was darker than the bottom and it flushed out from there. Barry couldn’t exactly say from the eager glances he stole at it but three or four inches _soft_ was his guess.

He figured that should be intimidating but it was instead stirring something primal and vibrant in his lower stomach.

Barry couldn’t quite put words to the images he was thinking in his mind as he looked at Len flush and naked. But he was seeing beautifully intense visions of bodies clashing on top of each other at a rate of _fucking fast_ as his mind ran as fast as he could run with his feet.

“I’ve always found cold comforting,” Len told him. He gestured to the Celtic tattoo. “I had this done in prison; the first time I went there. I wanted something to look intimidating and something I wouldn’t mind the design of.” Len reached out, grabbing the bottom of Barry’s shirt and he pulled the material over Barry’s head. Barry raised his arms, tugging them out and then grabbed the shirt and set it carefully on the ground. The clothes were new after all.

“What’s this one?” Barry asked about the woman with the long blonde hair.

“My mother had blonde hair, Lisa did too though it turned dirty blonde when she was older and she started dying it brown.” Len smirked, “You can see her roots growing out now. I think she’s a bit self conscious over it.”

“What are the words underneath it?”

Len traced the words nonchalantly when he spoke and then sat back confidently in the seat afterwards, “‘Respect is earned’.”

Barry felt a bit uncomfortable asking all of the questions, but then Len’s hands grabbed the elastic of his shorts and tugged them down to the floor and the man’s hands groped for his leggings. Barry could have just easily blurred himself out of the clothes yet Len seemed very intent on doing it as slowly as possible. _Like savoring a meal_ , Barry thought with a shudder. The questions were a nice distraction. “Can I ask why?”

“People in my life were always demanding I respect them, mob bosses, petty criminals, teachers, murderers… general assholes, and my father. No one gets my respect anymore without proving to me they deserve it and I don’t expect to be respected without proving myself. It’s a good rule,” Len looked up at Barry as he slid his hands under the leggings and slowly guided Barry closer to him, “don’t you think?”

“It makes sense,” Barry said. He set his hands on Len’s shoulders because that seemed to be the only place to put them, and the other man’s hands slowly started to ease their way down the end of his spine under the soft synthetic material of Barry’s leggings. His face flushing red, Barry mumbled, “I don’t know if I have a motto yet. Maybe ‘run fast’ or ‘If at first you don’t succeed, travel back in time and fuck things up worse’.”

Len gave Barry a short tug closer to him. Barry thought _fuck it_ ; he pulled his knees up onto the loveseat with Len’s chest in between them, sitting half on the other man’s lap and the rest being held up by the muscles in his legs. Len’s head started at Barry’s chin now, and Barry felt the urge to grab the sides of Len’s head with his hands and look down at the man from that angle.

Len’s hands wrapped around Barry’s ass and held the speedster up against him. “You’d have to be able to travel through time. Perhaps something along the lines of ‘With great power…’?” He teased.

Barry grinned brightly and leaned down as if he was going to kiss Len, the other man moved his face as he expected it, and then Barry stopped with his lips only inches from Len’s. “I _can,”_ he whispered.

“I don’t think even you can run that fast,” Len said with disbelief. His hands on Barry’s ass squeezed, and Len dropped his head and kissed the base of Barry’s neck.

“I _have,”_ Barry said, and then with a flush of guilt added, “I tried to do it again when the apocalypse broke out. I went back twenty-four hours and I just ran and ran and it didn’t work out- so I did it again and I still couldn’t make it.”

Len stopped. “You’re serious,” he realized as he met Barry’s eyes. “That’s why the Reverse Flash is after me I think; he can’t do what I can do,” Barry brushed his fingers through the short hairs growing in on Len’s head. Briefly, non-sequitor, Barry wondered if he could find a good razor to give Len a buzzcut since he knew the hair was bothering the other man. “He waited over a decade for me to get powers so he can harness whatever the hell he wants. If he could travel through time like I can, he would know how to do it well enough to be able to avoid waiting that long-”

“You, _Barry Allen_ ,” Len said slowly, his expression stern, “have the ability to travel _through time_.”

Barry had never told anyone else this, not even Cisco or Caitlin. Wells had urged him to keep it a secret and back then Barry trusted Wells- and the first time Barry had traveled through time the universe had replaced Joe West nearly being murdered and Iris confessing _she loved him_ (a feat that never happened again and which Barry didn’t want to think about in his present situation) for the criminally brilliant man in front of him and the dastardly plan where Cold tortured Cisco’s brother and found out Barry’s name.

Fuck, what a meet-cute.

“The timeline always seems to replace disasters with even worse disasters,” Barry tried to explain, “I think I shouldn't do it except-”

“You’re a fucking miracle, Barry,” Len said with a humbled expression. The other man lifted Barry up with his strong arms rippling, guiding Barry’s body to lie the speedster down on his back as Len pressed himself on top of him.

Barry’s skin flushed red- from the pure lust that boiled in his fingertips at the feeling of Len’s strong arms lifting his body off the group and also an undeniable embarrassment of the same thing. “I’m just me,” Barry mumbled.

“I know, which _is_ the fucking miracle,” Len said softly. The man traced a cold finger along Barry’s eyebrows to his mouth.

Barry clenched Len’s hips and slowly arched his back up against the other man.

Len kissed him. _Finally,_ Barry thought. And Len really couldn’t blame him for his excitement at this point- Barry blurred his motions quickly and in the span of .1 of a second, twisted his body, tugged off his leggings and underwear, tossed the clothes to the floor, and pressed himself back up against the other man.

Len pulled away suddenly and grabbed at his jaw. “Did you just-”

Barry couldn’t wait, his body was hot and sickly sensitive- he kissed Len hard, again and again, pushing his mouth against Len's with his tongue pressing carefully on Len’s teeth. Len’s face turned and his mouth sucked and Barry sank himself into that feeling. His hands gripped Len’s neck tight against him, tight thigh reaching out and wrapping his leg around Len’s as Barry forced his way hotter- closer- warmer-

Len grabbed Barry’s arms hard enough to bruise. His mouth pressed viciously into Barry’s, an intensity plaguing every sweep of the other man’s tongue, every curve of his body, all the hard angles and desperate touches. His tongue pushed into Barry’s mouth and the sensation of Len’s breath sliding into Barry’s lungs sent a ripple of fearful excitement through Barry’s chest.

Barry propped his chest forward and ground his groin up against Len’s hips in a desperate bid for attention there.

Len mouth moved away from Barry’s, a trickle of saliva connected them for one strange moment and then Len dropped his mouth to Barry’s chest. The man’s hands fell down along Barry’s waist. Len traced slow circles on the muscles there before steadily gripping Barry flush with his hand.

Barry’s shoulders tensed and he dropped his head back on the end of the bed. He moaned low at first and then louder, the air pushing out of his lung with a gasp when Len’s hand stroked him tightly downward and the man’s mouth moved to kiss at his nipples. His skin was laden with goosebumps at this point.

It was deep winter outside, the room they were in only slowly building up in heat, Barry’s body was hot, Len’s body was hot, but Len’s hands were so fucking cold.

Len’s teeth skidded across the sensitive skin on Barry’s chest as his hand jerked upward, the nearly-but-not painfully tight grip falling away with an audible popping sound when he reached the end and his hand dropped off.

 _“Shit,_ Len,” Barry groaned and his hands pressed hard against Len’s shoulder, his elbows locked, for no reason but to give him something to arch against. “Shit shit shit.”

Len slowly raised his head up from Barry’s chest, his face angled and dangerous as the light of the room cast long shadows across the bones under his eyes and cheeks. “What do you say I get to put you in my mouth-”

Barry thrust his groin up against Len, feeling hungry and pitiful and wanting nothing more than to go back to the part where Len was _touching_ him. “C’mon,” Barry muttered under his breath. The feeling of vibrating in his toes and fingers came back. He dropped his hands from Len’s shoulders, having enough self-awareness not to want Len to see his lack of control, and gripped the material of the couch tightly. The cushioning would absorb the parts of himself that he was having trouble controlling in his excitement. “C’mon, Len, just fucking do it already.”

“and then,” Len said like he hadn’t heard anything Barry just said, _Was I talking fast or is he just being an ass?_ Barry wondered, “I’m going to fuck you into this loveseat until the feeling of me inside you is frozen into your brain.”

“Amazingitsoundsamazingjustplease _do_ italready,” Barry said without realizing he was talking fast. There was anticipation building in his chest that threatened to explode and he wanted Len so much at this point Barry couldn’t even imagine anything else.

Barry sat up just a bit on the couch, and Len slid back to his knees and grabbed the leg that Barry had hooked around the other man’s hip, throwing it over the back of the loveseat and he lifted Barry’s other leg over his arm.

Len's tongue swept slowly from the base of Barry's cock, the motion so slow and tantalizing Barry was afraid he'd explode right then. Barry gripped the sides of the mattress tighter as his breath came in shorter gasps.

Len smirked at Barry as he turned his head and kissed the side of Barry's shaft. His fingers trickled up the sides of Barry's thigh, teasingly close to Barry's groin but not quite reaching it.

"I'm gunna die if youdonthurryup," Barry mumbled. Len's tongue swept gently over the head of his cock and Barry's entire chest heaved forward.

"You should slow down," Len draped his fingers loosely on the base of Barry's cock, the bottom of his palm lightly just touching the curve of his balls, and his mouth spoke the words with hot breath whispering on the most sensitive part of Barry's body. "Take the moment, freeze it in your memory- let your body relax-"

"Put y-your _mouth,"_ Barry gasped.

"I know, Scarlet," Len's fingers gripped him tighter, the welcome grip such a beautiful feeling. His heavy lips pressed down again on Barry's cock, a sloppy kiss as his tongue eased out and licked a solid line from his fingers. "I haven't tasted a man since this fucking-"

"We are _both_ in sore need of a fucking, Len, Cold, _please_ I am _notinthe_ mood to slow _slowslow_ down," Barry chattered, teeth grinding against his jaw as he lurched his hips against the tight grip of Len's hand.

Len adjusted himself, sitting upward as his hand began a gentle but _tight_ series of strokes for Barry's benefit. Len reached for something on the floor but couldn't seem to grab it.

Barry found himself absorbed in that steady pace with Len's hand, he clenched his eyes shut. His consciousness focused only on that slow upward motion, keeping his hands from vibrating with hold on the dusty cushions of the loveseat-

"I have to grab my coat," Len said suddenly.

"Fuck you don't-" Barry tried to protest but Len had already moved away.

Through halflidded eyes Barry could see the other man moving to his parka, fumbling with the pockets, but Barry couldn't wait.

The air around him was too cold and unwelcome- too much of the stench of neglected buildings and rotting dead things- he wanted Len back in the deepest part of his chest. In that moment Barry was alone in the apocalypse and he felt the crushing weight of guilt and fear.

"Len, you _fucker"_ Barry shouted at him.

“I’m right here,” Len said as he quickly jumped back onto the loveseat. He grabbed the sides of Barry’s heads and kissed his forehead. “I know, I know, I had lube in my parka and a condom in my jeans I wasn’t leaving.”

Barry’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I was  _not_ worried you’d-”

“I know what you were worried about, come here,” Len kissed Barry’s lips softly.

Barry grabbed the back of Len’s neck with vibrating fingers and shaking wrists. _“Len,”_ he warned, not entirely sure what he was threatening.

Len seemed to understand. The man braced one hand on Barry’s hips, and popped open the bottle with his other. “Have you done this at all since high school?” Len asked. His finger brushed up around Barry’s ass.

It was such an embarrassing and weird feeling, and Barry buried his eyes in the crook of his elbow to avoid the sensation of Len’s finger. “Yes,” he mumbled.

Len’s voice was intently jealous as he asked, “With who?”

 _“Myself,_ alone,” Barry said, pissed and flushed and nervous and grateful. Len back, Len as a distraction, Len touching him- it was what Barry needed more than anything else.

Len’s middle finger slowly pushed its way through tight muscle inside of Barry, a steady and painfully slow arc. The one hand Barry had that was still gripping the cushions turned white. _Such a weird feeling_ , what a _weird,_ weird weird feeling- the sensation of being filled up from the outside, of his muscles accepting something else. Barry could never manage to explain it, only that he knew he _liked_ it and the best part-

Was _that._ The moment when Len’s fingers brushed on the tightest bundle of nerves in his body. It was like everything in his body burst into excitement. A better sensation than running, than falling- it was a burst of warmth and hunger inside of himself that just expanded.

Len’s finger slipped back and Barry groaned as it left him. The other man pushed it back inside, the appendage exploring through muscle and opening him up.

Barry wanted the moment so badly; he needed to get off but he needed the escape of it all. He wanted to connect with Len, he wanted to feel the aura of that strong, confident man surrounding him and filling him up with everything Len had. “Don’t be slow,” Barry mumbled.

Len pushed two fingers into him then, twisting them up inside until they found again the sweet spot inside of Barry. Len’s other hand reached up and pulled Barry’s arm away from his face. “Then I want to see you,” Len said with a rather vicious swoop of his forefinger.

Barry’s hips lurched back into Len’s hands involuntarily and he gasped for air. The room felt so hot- the goosebumps on Barry’s exposed skin hardly noticeable as a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead to the crook of his neck. “T-t-t-t,” Barry tried to speak with a vibrating jaw. _Shit,_ he thought, _shit shit fuck shit, I can’t control this_.

“Shh, Scarlet,” Len whispered. And he was sliding in the third finger and it was _almost_ too much, it was too tight and too fast and the feeling of good and _no_ were mixed so heavily together, but Len’s hand grasped Barry’s cock gently and stroked him, and the fingers twisted slowly and carefully through him until the fingers were tapping his  prostate. Len kept at that motion for a good amount of time, slicking the fingers again with lubricant and massaging them inside of him until Barry was almost dying for the real thing.

Len’s voice was hesitant when he announced it, asking if Barry was ready. Barry reached out with shaking hands to grab the small round package on the side of the loveseat. “’C-c-course,” Barry said breathlessly, trying to ignore how difficult it was to speak when his whole body felt fast, he ripped the condom package open, dropping the rubber onto his palm. “I wanttoput it on?”

“Okay,” Len said softly. His fingers slid out of Barry and Barry’s shoulders tensed.

Fighting back the shaking of his muscles, Barry sat up carefully, his hands reaching out to Len. One hand gripped Len’s hips so Barry could steady himself, the other holding the condom. He slid the rubber quickly over Len’s cock, as his fingers touched it Barry couldn’t help but let his hand explore- he wanted Len in so many ways, far more than he could do in a single afternoon.

“Holy fuck,” Len moaned, dropping his head down from the feeling.

“Yyyour fault you didn’task tobesucked off,” Barry said, having trouble getting the words out and then slowing them down when they came. It was more than a little embarrassing but Len didn’t acknowledge it at all.“I wouldhave done it.”

“Good to know,” Len said. He grabbed Barry’s hair, yanking him roughly back prone on the cushions. Len’s chest laid down on Barry’s and the other man looked the speedster straight in the eyes, something visceral and _wanting_ in that expression which sent the most powerful shudders down Barry’s spine. His other hand guided Barry’s hips and Barry moved with him.

Len was slow as he entered him. So sickingly slow. His cock pressing so sweetly around the edges of Barry and pushing in with the softest nudge; he waited until Barry was squirming beneath him before going more, and then again. The man seemed to possess an endless patience. His eyes didn’t relent, watching Barry’s face like a starving man studying a meal. Len pushed in again and then he was pressing on Barry’s prostate.

Barry almost screamed yet the sound caught in his stomach. He arched his back, pressing hard against Len’s chest on him. The muscle on muscle, the feeling of his own body so hard against Len, Len inside him feeling him up, on top of him heavy and calm- those eyes staring deep into him-

There was nothing in the world. Len’s mouth on his throat, Len filling him up, the scent of living bodies, these were the things that existed.

Barry’s hips thrusted back into Len, and then with a sharp _beautiful_ feeling of discomfort Len was fully inside of him and that overwhelming feeling of being connected came over him again. Barry felt sappy but _damn_ if he couldn’t get good and fucked instead and sort out emotions later.

Len tried to control the pace, he had his hand on Barry’s hip pushing Barry backward as he slid in and out at a torturous rate. Barry knew Len wanted to savor the moment, but _fuck_ if Barry didn’t think the moment had been savored _enough._ He wanted to _make_ the moment.

In, out, Barry’s hipbones pressed into Len’s and then released; a feeling that burst through the sensation of being full and _good._ It was so good. Len deep in him, Barry’s hands scrambling, grabbing Len’s neck, shoulders, back, arms, anything he could for purchase and having nothing hold him still enough. Barry’s hips moved at a completely erratic pace, thrusting upward as fast as he could in rapid succession and then stopping completely while he gasped to control himself, tried to be steady with Lens’ movements. He couldn’t stop, his fingers were vibrating and his hands couldn’t grip.

Len kissed Barry’s neck, the man’s back curled up awkwardly, one hand holding Barry’s hips at the right angle as his own hips moved forward. Barry’s goosebump-ridden skin could feel Len against him like burning metal.

Barry fucked himself hard on Len’s cock, he couldn’t get enough of it. The feelings were so intense, the coiling heat burning up in his lower groin. He wanted it to last forever and he wanted a release more than anything.

“Barry,” Len mumbled into his skin, his hips pushing harder forward, moving out slowly and coming back with a quick, powerful motion. The movement was so good, hot and intense and then teasingly slow- everything Len seemed to do he was doing slowly, driving Barry crazier for it with every inch.

Barry struggled to form the words; his whole body was feeling hotter and better by the minute. The longer Len took to slide out of him the harder Len pressed back into Barry; and Barry couldn’t keep up with it, he couldn’t stop himself from riding Len as passionately and roughly as he could manage with his skin vibrating. _“Please,”_ Barry gasped.

Len moved quickly; the other man grabbed Barry’s hips solidly in his strong hands, and then he drilled into him. The thrusting hard and quick, relentlessly pounding against Barry’s prostate as the other man moaned loud. The sound of Len was _amazing._

Barry gripped his own cock in his hand, and with the thrusts of Len into him and a few short strokes from his own hand he was gone. His shoulders and chest practically lifting up on the ground, pushing hand into Len and then he collapsed down like he’d been possessed. The orgasm seemed to fill his entire body; the feeling like a surge of heat and release; a hunger just satisfied, that expression of complete relief to every inch of his body. It was a _fucking_ beautiful feeling, an addictive feeling. He had forgotten how great a penetrative orgasm felt, and how different it was from the alternate.

Barry closed his eyes and let his head drop on the cushion. His tongue felt dry and heavy.

His entire body just _stopped_ shaking. The uncontrollable vibrating of his muscles ending entirely as that relief filled his body. And since when was this dusty loveseat the most comfortable place in the world?

Barry felt cold.

Then a solid shape crawled upward onto him, the heavy weight sliding into the space between Barry’s shoulder and the back of the couch, a strong arm collapsing down on Barry’s chest. Len’s chin rested on Barry’s arm and the other man let out a low, deep sigh.

Barry opened his eyes and took in the sight of Len, his hard face more relaxed than the man even looked sleeping, as the other man lay naked at Barry’s side. There was something deeply intimate about it.

“Scarlet,” Len said softly into Barry’s skin. His arm hooked onto Barry’s side, holding Barry tightly in his arms.

Barry knew they were covered in dust and worse, that the apocalypse still existed outside and in a minute or so the two of them would be cold enough they’d be scrambling to get back in their clothes, but he could forget that for now. Barry wanted Len to stay strong at his side as long as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a highly difficult chapter to write. Also my word doc just passed 100 pages which is certainly a milestone.


	11. 123 Miles from Central City

123 Miles from Central City

“Remember all those times you tried to kill me? Because it’s starting to freak me out,” Barry said to Len as the man was grabbing for his parka under their bed.

It was close to noon; they’d slept in the same bed last night like they did the night before- though this time Barry found it comfortable to rest his head on Len’s shoulder like a pillow and Len had that same arm wrapped across Barry, holding Barry tight against him like a comfort blanket.

It was cloyingly sentimental. Barry had watched the sun rise by observing shadows moving across Len’s face and Len had kept a vicelike grip on Barry’s back all night. When they’d woken up there had been a long, soft kiss between the two of them- something gentle and exciting. Barry couldn’t remember, from the sleep-induced haze of memory, who started it or how long it lasted. But it was chaste for a kiss. It was a ‘good morning’.

There was something very emotional about having a person to sleep next to during the apocalypse. Something that made Barry throw off any worries he had about Len being a man and yet Len being a _supervillain_ was still a matter of interest.

“If you want any of the food you have to put on your coat and help make it,” Len said as he grabbed his own parka and slid it over his broad shoulders.

“Are you ignoring me?” Barry crossed his arms. Mick was outside working on a bonfire, Lisa was gathering wood with him and Shawna had been tasked making sure the area was secure. The group had taken a stop on a scenic detour off the highway the trees along the road, giving them a little privacy and the long stretch of a frozen lake in front of them. It was a nice place to take a momentary break from the cramped quarters of the RV. Which was what Len had said when the man pulled the car over without warning and demanded everyone step outside in freezing weather to gather wood.

“Yes,” Len replied. He dropped his cold gun in its holster and spent too long making sure it was secure. The other man wasn’t meeting Barry’s eyes with his own and had that obsessively calm exterior that Barry just wanted to break. He _knew_ Len wasn’t so cool and collected all of the time- Barry _knew_ Len rather well now.

He knew Len enough to like most of what Len was about. Still. “I mean it, it’s been bothering me,” Barry said. Len reached under the bed again and pulled out Barry’s red running jacket. Reluctantly, Barry took it and put it on.

“There’s no way I would murder you _now,_ if that’s what you’re asking,” Len still didn’t look at Barry which was _frustrating._ The man opened up the kitchen cabinets and started looking through cans of preserves. “I don’t mean to play favorites, but you and Lisa are my top priority at the moment.”

“I am pretty sure everyone knows Lisa and I are your favorites,” Barry said immediately. He crossed his arms again and stood his ground, because if he had to stare daggers at the back of Len’s head he would.  And eventually Len might feel the force of his gaze and look in Barry's eyes.  Or Barry would develop heat-vision, whichever came first. “Between your sister and the guy you fucked it’s a little obvious.”

“Getting a little lonely?”

Len had a smirk on his face as he set a can of pepper slices on the ground with some tomato cans and Barry wanted to _kill_ him.

Barry had no idea if _boyfriend_ was the proper way to think about Len now. Barry had never called anyone a _boy_ friend before; the word felt weird even just to think about. It was hot in a way, different, and the whole possessive idea of having Len as his boyfriend was a very nice thing to distract himself with.

Barry _wanted_ to be able to look at Len and think the word ‘boyfriend’. He didn’t care how soon it had been since they’d actually started this whole thing. _Not even a week,_ his thoughts reminded him, but Barry didn’t want to care about that. He wanted to _start_ something- to get a hold on the feeling he’d had with Len’s body cramped up against his own and just… steal it.

“I think it’s an elephant in the room,” Barry said after a pause.

“It’s not an elephant in the room once you start talking about it,” Len countered. He began looking through another cabinet, finding a can of red beans he placed beside the other cans. _What is he even doing?_ Barry thought, annoyed.

“I think we have to bring it up.” Barry was not going to back down from this. He cleared his throat to make the position clear- to try to _demand_ Len’s attention.

Len found a can of corn. The man seemed pleased by it.

Barry glared daggers at the back of Len’s neck, his fingers twitching as his brain played out a fantasy of him grabbing the hood of the parka that dangled on Len’s back and just dragging the man to the bed and _demanding_ Len look at him in the eyes. Making Len apologize. Making… Barry’s eyes lingered on the ass of Len’s jeans and he tilted his head in contemplation. Making Len take off those _jeans-_ Barry sinking his mouth down on that nice, long, flushed c-

“Okay, so I tried to kill you once. Lisa tried to kill me once.” Len shrugged like for some reason attempted murder was a non-issue. “I obviously find the idea of killing you abhorrent now so I don’t see the point.”

 _Fuck,_ here Barry was trying to get a dialogue going about Len’s criminal past and Barry’s police-good-vigilante past and yet his brain had gotten a bit stuck remembering… how… how Len’s cock was flushed darker at the end. And it was nice. And Barry really liked it. And Barry had really liked the cock _in_ him.

“The whole ‘not killing anyone’ deal we had before,” Barry said as he noticed how dry his lips were. Barry leaned back against the end of the futon behind him. The thing about penetration was that the body tended to be rather… _stretched_ out for awhile afterward- in college when Barry had been going slightly crazy over exams and finals and also some fantastic sex shop he had found with two of his equally final-horrified-nerd-scientist friends he had… he had noticed how easy it was to slip into a habit of doing it more and more. How his body would just get used to it.

“That deal is still standing with a self-defense clause and an eye-for-an-eye revenge clause I added,” Len explained. He opened one of the last cabinets, still searching for whatever were the right components for whatever he was making. “I wish we thought to bring spices,” Len said under his breath, “all we have is salt and pepper.” He still took both of those off the cabinet and set them with the six cans he had.

“Okay,” Barry said. Len shifted a little and Barry looked at Len’s legs. Was it terrible that he was thinking how easy it would be to just climb up on Len and just a little slick of lubricant and Barry could have that feeling back. Full. Separated. Connected. Whatever it was, Barry wanted it and he wanted to… he wanted to have sex. “But I think it’s going to be some sort of factor in our relationship later on. I literally don’t know anyone outside of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ who slept with someone they once wanted to kill.”

Len looked at Barry. _Finally!_ Barry thought with triumph as the man’s dark, brown eyes connected with his. Barry’s entire skin started crawling with goosebumps and he could feel his heart start beating at meta-human speeds. “It’s a relationship now?” Len deadpanned but his lips curled into a smirk.

“Who else are you gunna fuck? You’re gay so not Shawna. Who is left? Mick?” Barry asked smugly. He felt so _good_ saying the word, letting his lips catch on the ‘f’ and enunciating the ‘ck’ with excitement. “You’re stuck with me. No other options.”

“Did I miss something?” Len asked, “A moment ago you were trying to chat about murder.”

Barry’s face flushed. “Uh,” he swallowed, his throat still dry, and almost looked away from Len’s eyes but then again, looking at Len was nice. Barry liked to see Len’s stony features, the light curl of his cheekbones, the stubble along the man’s face, the lips that had the nicest shade of a natural red, and those eyes. Len was a really handsome guy. “I don’t know. I got distracted?”

Len smugly set the last can down, sauntering over to the futon and standing beside him. The two of them were almost even height, Len leaning forward and Barry leaning backward with his calves resting on the side.

 _If I sit down I could take off his belt with my teeth_ , the unbidden thought jumped into Barry’s head and started his mind stirring at unnaturally fast speeds. He hadn’t been aware his mouth was open until Len’s thumb slid across his bottom lip.

“You like the outfit?” Len asked.

Barry was taken aback. “W- What?” He had no idea where that came from.

“C’mon,” Len said pridefully, thumb brushing against Barry’s mouth again, “I put on the parka and my gun and suddenly you’re all blushes and stutters?”

It hadn’t even come across Barry’s mind. “I was looking at your _ass,”_ he defended, though he had no idea why he felt the urge to defend himself.

“Mmhm,” Len did not believe him. At all. It was aggravating. Len pressed his hand on Barry’s shoulder and Barry let the other man push him down until Barry was sitting on the futon, Len hovering over him. Len let his gloved hand slide down Barry’s shoulder to his forearm. “The others will have their hands full getting the fire working but they’ll be warm enough.” Len’s voice dropped lower, a gravely, serious tone that the man just seemed to _know_ was seductive; “You want to put on your uniform?”

“The- the _Flash_ uniform?” Barry stared in disbelief.

 _“Yeah,”_ Len breathed. He slid his hand down Barry’s arm again. Leaning forward, Len kissed Barry’s cheek- which was sweet- and then instantly got dirtier when Len’s mouth slid along the side of his face to his ear. Len’s tongue brushed on the sensitive skin there, then his teeth gripped the earlobe gently and-

It was a kink Barry didn’t even _know_ he had. He moaned, hand reaching up to Len’s neck but not wanting to stop him. Len’s voice whispered into Barry’s ear, “I’ll keep the gun on,” he said as if the idea of having dangerous weaponry in the bedroom was supposed to be a turn _on._

 _“NO,”_ Barry said, shoving Len’s shoulders away and getting the man’s mouth off that sensitive, sweetly tender part of his body. “There will never be any guns _anywhere_ near us when we’re doing it.” ‘ _Doing it_ ’, Barry repeated in his mind, bemoaning the fact he sounded like a horny teenager not the suave, university-educated, sexy superhero he wanted to be.

“Do you want the parka on?” Len looked at Barry curiously.

“I don’t want _anything_ on,” Barry said, “why would we even-? With the-? With my _Flash_ uniform?”

“You sound _scandalized,”_ Len said proudly, leaning forward and gently grazing his teeth on the side of Barry’s ear.

Barry _yelped._ And in a fit of embarrassment from that sound he dragged his body back on the futon away from Len.

Len rested his arms on the end of the cushions and sighed. “But are you… _entirely_ objectionable to the idea?”

“What idea?” Barry asked.

“Roleplay.”

Barry was so, so, so, so glad no one was within hearing distance of this conversation. “In… ah… in the costumes?”

“I like you, Barry Allen,” Len said simply. He shrugged his shoulders, “I like _all_ of you, and that does include the…” he thought for a moment, “ ‘meta-human’?” Len looked at Barry for confirmation the word was correct and Barry nodded; Len continued, “the _meta-human_ parts of you.”

Barry frowned at him suspiciously. “Are you sure it’s not just some power fantasy, I-conquer-my-nemesis sort of thing?”

“It is _entirely_ a power fantasy,” Len told him without any shame whatsoever.

How the fuck was the guy so confident about all of this? “

Going back to the ‘You used to want to _kill_ me thing’…” Barry started but wasn’t sure how to end it so he left the sentence hanging, unfinished in the air between them. It was suddenly uncomfortable.

Len nodded. “I get it,” he suddenly stood up, turning his head away from Barry, “we’re not really at the point yet where we can… make a game out of that past.” That was a good way of putting it.

“Are you…” Barry swallowed. Because he was sitting on the futon now and Len’s jeans were right in front of them and _oh god_ , Len had the handsomest cock ever and it had been almost twenty-four hours since Barry had seen it. Barry wanted to rip those fucking jeans to shreds- he wanted to grab Len, speed-change the man naked, he wanted to wrap his mouth around that cock and ride Len at the same time- The flushing growing along Barry’s cheeks and neck had nothing to do with embarrassment now as he could feel heat stirring in his stomach. “Really into roleplay?”

Len shrugged. “I’m into a lot of things, it’s just something I’ve been thinking about for a while since…”

Barry slid a bit forward on the futon. Len wasn’t exactly moving, and Barry spread his legs just enough that he knew Len could fit between them. “Since?”

“Since I fished you out of the snowstorm, honestly,” Len admitted, “and I can’t exactly deny you look good in scarlet.” Len always said _scarlet,_ not red. Barry liked it. What was it Len had called him that time? _Scarlet speedster_? Shit, maybe Len should name the next round of meta-humans instead of Cisco.

It was a bit humbling remembering how Len had wanted Barry for so long; how Len had just started wrapping his arms around Barry and tried to get him to notice- Barry’s mind went back to the kiss at the homestead, when Len’s mouth had been the only thing to distract him from searing pain in his ankle.

Maybe Barry should just stop worrying about moving too fast and let himself go with what was natural.

Barry could definitely accommodate Len’s fantasies, if that’s what Len wanted. Barry wasn’t exactly ready to go full on _Pornhub video: sexy supervillain Captain Cold captures the Flash, BDSM, kink-play, anal action XXX_ (or whatever the title would be). But if roleplay turned Len on then why not?  Barry was not much of an actor but he’d done a few musicals in high school. He could pretend.

Was it horrible his mouth was starting to water at the idea of sucking Len’s cock? Really, was Barry that sex-starved that the idea of _doing_ oral sex could turn him on? Barry gently reached up and started to undo the belt of Len’s jeans.

Len looked at him, surprised, and then unzipped his parka letting it fall to the floor. Len grabbed his holster too, setting it off and being careful with it. “What do _you_ want to do?” Len asked, smugly leaning his hips forward and letting Barry slide the jeans down to the top of his thighs.

“Wait, give me a second,” Barry said, hesitating before he pulled off the rest of Len’s boxers even though he _really_ wanted to do it now. Barry closed his eyes to think. _Alright, roleplay fantasty… Len likes- what does Len like? Guns? Stealing? Murder? Winter?_ Who the fuck was Barry dating? Who-

A hand brushed gently through Barry’s hair, soft and tender.

Wow, Barry liked Len.

“Okay,” Barry said opening his eyes to see Len looking at him with unabashed curiosity. “Captain Cold, I…” _shit what had he come up with again?_ “can be… the forensic scientist who has… codes to your secret uh… um, your next target. And you are trying to-”

Len blushed, his face turning red and eyes widening in embarrassment. “Barry, you don’t have to do _that.”_

“You are so damn confusing,” Barry glared at Len in frustration. Barry was turned on already- he was sick of it. He just wanted to forego any and all foreplay and start fucking into the couch but god they _again_ were having the _worst_ difficulty getting started.

At least it was nice to see that Len was capable of embarrassment.

“Look, I just think the idea of us fucking in the uniforms is _nice_ but that’s all I meant by it,” Len said. The other man frowned. “It’s not like it’s a _thing_ I have.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Barry said. He noticed right then how he had been pretty much holding Len’s cock through the material of the man’s boxers this entire time. And _wow,_ was that a weird way to have a conversation with someone.

“Let’s just stick a pin in the other thing, come back to it later,” Barry decided. And he slowly started to stroke Len because it had definitely been unfair to grab the man and then just _hold_ him without moving at all. “But if you _do_ have any kinks or things,” Barry said because he was a nice fucking person and Len was great and Barry was going to be a _damn._ good. _boy_ friend, “you can tell me.”

Len laughed. It sounded so good, so light, calm, and happy. Barry had half-expected Len’s laugh to be some demonic sort of ‘bwahahah!’ evil supervillain laughter; but Len sounded normal. Normal and good. “Okay, Scarlet,” Len said, still chuckling, “I will keep that in mind.”

“It just better not be necrophilia because I am not touching one of those damn monster-things,” Barry joked. And he pulled Len’s boxers down then, his own cock getting half-hard almost instantly at the sight.

Len was so smooth and good, and that curve at the top and the way- did Barry mention how it was flushed dark at the end and light around the top, and Len’s stomach hairs formed this perfect little trail of brown curly hairs along the man’s groin-

Barry leaned forward and licked along the shaft of Len’s cock with hardly a thought. His nose filled up with that scent of musk, something deep, foreign, and manly in the taste, and Barry contented himself for a long moment. His eyes closed, running his tongue along the sides and then holding the head in his mouth just a few inches, giving Len a slow suck and then going back over it with his tongue.

Len’s hands braced on the wall behind him and the man’s voice came out unexpectedly, “What about you? Speed-freak? Adrenaline junkie, ah-” Len moaned, one hand grabbed Barry’s hair for a moment out of instinct before he let go. “Submission?”

“You _wish,”_ Barry said. And he swallowed Len down as far as he could, his fingers making up for the rest of it, and with a short hum he started to vibrate his mouth and tongue.

The sound Len made was unholy.

Len was rock hard and sweaty in only a few minutes, his hands gripping Barry’s shoulders like a lifeline. _“-fuck,_ Scarlet, mhmm- _shit_ fuck-” Len was gasping, breathing out muffled cries of ‘Scarlet’ and ‘Barry’ interchangeably with curses. When Len’s breaths started growing too short the man pulled away, muttering, “I’m _close,”_ and Barry’s mouth slipped off of him with an obscene wet pop.

It actually took conscious effort for Barry to get his mouth to stop vibrating and talk- the first words came out in that alter-ego voice he used to talk to people who might recognize him when he was dressed as the Flash. “ _Len you wann_ a fuck me now?” Barry whispered.

“Oh,” Len said eagerly, he grabbed Barry’s hips and lifted the speedster up on the futon with impressive strength, sliding his own body underneath Barry’s. Barry eased comfortably over Len’s lap, his thighs wrapping around Len’s side and feet dangling off the edge of the floor. “Cute. You think you still have to _ask,”_ Len mumbled into Barry’s ear. His hands slid up the back of Barry’s shirt.

 _“Fuck,_ this is hot,” Shawna Baez’s voice came from the front of the car.

Barry and Len froze.

“No, seriously,” Shawna was sitting crosslegged on the table, holding a stick of wood in her hands that it looked like she was carving into a spoon with a steak knife. She waved her hands encouragingly. “Like I’m not even here.”

 _“Shawna,”_ Len warned.

“By all means,” Shawna said with a hint of anger in her voice, “continue to fuck all over the futon where your best friend sleeps. Just have sex all over the place. Have you done it in your sister’s bed yet? What about the passenger seat where I was sleeping? Oh, yeah, and don’t forget to do it in broad daylight- in the middle of our living room- giving everyone else no warning whatsoever.”

Barry reached behind Len and pulled the other man’s jeans back up. He looked everywhere but at Shawna, because _holy shit_ if there was a hole in the ground Barry could crawl into Barry was there _yesterday._

Barry even half seriously considered running back in time, with or without the cataclysmic disaster it would likely cause and the whole ‘freezing to death outside’ issue.

Len’s body was tense and practically murderous; Barry could feel every little twinge of anger in the man’s chest. “How long were you there?”

“I mean,” Shawna said as she stabbed the stick with her knife, “I totally saw your dick, Captain. Which is really unfair for me because _my_ apocalypse love-bug has been gone from me for a month. Also, congratulations on your stunning blowjob abilities, Flash.”

Barry zipped Len’s jeans up for him and then with the superspeed blurring at his sides he pushed Len away and sped over to the bathroom. He grabbed the bottle of hand sanitizer and started rubbing it over his hands, glad to at least be out of Shawna’s eye. How was he even going to _look_ at Len or Shawna again? Much less live _practically three feet away from them in an RV the size of a Metropolis apartment._

“Do I even have to tell you how rude it is to watch people?” Len’s voice was so, unbelievably calm that Barry and anyone else who knew Len well enough would be aware the man was two seconds from exploding into a murderous rage.

“Do you want me to tell Mick what you were doing on his bed?”

Intense silence. Barry dribbled more hand sanitizer onto his skin.

“Get those cans, Shawna. Bring them to Lisa. Don’t you fucking dare look at me for twenty-four hours or I am leaving you behind us in the cold.”

“Aw.” Sound of someone jumping onto the floor. “And you had such a pretty dick, Captain.”

Barry wasn’t even aware he had been running until he felt Len’s arm holding him back.

In a fit of rage he’d surged forward with his powers. Barry's hands were curled into fists aiming at Shawna- but Len had just known, reached out and touched him and Barry stopped. The electricity was still tingling at his ears; the yellow shockwaves were visible in the air around them.

Shawna’s eyes widened.

She teleported to the cans. Stuffed them in a bag. Looked at the window. Disappeared.

“Shawna is not a bad person,” Len said, his hand still tight on Barry’s arm, “she’s antagonistic but so are Mick and Lisa.”

“And you,” Barry said. He knocked his arm away from Len.

“She is right,” Len said with grave seriousness as he turned to face Barry.

Barry swallowed. The idea that he’d grown so angry he’d been about to _fight_ Shawna, just because she saw- she saw- okay, in retrospect that was a rather reasonable reason to fight her and Barry would probably do it again. “About what?”

“You have one amazing mouth.” Len smirked. The man leaned up against Barry, hand going to Barry’s neck to pull the speedster in for a gentle kiss. Barry could feel Len’s cock through the jeans, still hard and ready against him. Well they _had_ left at a… bad moment. “Bed,” Barry pushed Len back. “Now.”

Len raised an eyebrow. “You’re giving me ord-”

“Take of your clothes and go to the bed,” Barry clarified to make it clear that _yes,_ he was giving Len orders. Barry didn’t wait to see if Len would follow them.

Barry grabbed the nearest coat- Len’s _parka,_ threw it over his shoulders and ran to the door of the RV. He opened the door, saw Lisa holding a pan over a fire as Mick was lovingly stroking the sides of a huge pile of wood that had yet to catch flame, and Barry yelled out, “Everyone is banned from the RV for…” He tried to estimate a time, “thirty minutes!”

Lisa looked up with disgust over her entire features but Mick seemed apathetic.

Barry slammed the door shut, satisfied. And faster than the eye could blink he threw off his clothes and jumped onto the bed beside the strong, muscular form that was still taking off his shirt.

The bed shook under the impact of Barry jumping on it at superspeed, and Len looked up in surprise but Barry’s hands went to the man’s clothes to help him undress. “You _announced,”_ Len said slowly even as he was complying with Barry’s hands which were now taking off his jeans again, “to my best friend and my little _sister_ that we were having sex.”

“Unfortunately I think we’re just going to have to start doing that if you want to have any sort of sex life,” Barry shrugged. If Len had done that to his Joe or Iris- or even worse Barry’s _father,_ then Barry would be practically dead with embarrassment but Len was made of stronger stuff. And Barry apparently was the master of oral (seriously, thank you getting-struck-by-lightning Barry had never been a master of _anything_ sexually before) so Len would have to deal with it.

Len still had his shoes, and the man untied them and then slid out of all of his clothes.

“Awesome,” Barry said quickly. He didn’t exactly think; Barry just grabbed Len’s shoulders, threw the other man back on the bed, and speeded to grab the bottle of lubricant at the side of the mattress. He fell down on Len’s thighs, bouncing a bit as the bed groaned in protest of the super-speed shock waves, and squeezed a good amount of it onto his hands before rubbing it along Len’s rock hard cock. Which was so _pretty._

Len had great lips. Great eyes. Great body. _Is this Stockholm syndrome, sex-starvation, or am I seriously this hard on for another man?_ Barry wondered with no concern for the answer. Maybe all three.

“Damn, Scarlet, you’re insatiable today.” Len was grinning and Barry returned the look with a smile so bright it almost hurt. Everything felt really nice for the moment. A bonfire outside, the two of them holed up in their private world, and there were no zombies within smelling distance.

Barry wrapped his elbow around Len’s neck to brace himself, lifting up with his knees over Len’s lap. Len grabbed Barry’s hips to support him. “Shit,” Len muttered, “how did I get _you?”_

If Barry kept smiling he was going to have his face stuck like some avant-garde murder clown. “Are you being romantic?”

Len kissed Barry slowly, lips soft and capturing Barry’s lips with his own. They were still for a moment, breathing each other in, and then Barry slowly lowered in hips down. There was only a bit of uncomfortable stretching, some pressure- Len was pushing Barry up, trying to keep him from going too fast and Barry just steadily sunk himself onto Len’s cock. His breath came out in a long, shaking gasp.

It wasn’t too long before Barry slowly started to rock himself forward, and Len countered the motion, keeping the steady movement backward. His hands were gentle on Barry’s shoulders as he kept them together. A slow motion, never quite pulling out, only an inch forward and then back. Len’s cock was at this perfect position inside of him; each motion sent tingles down Barry’s spine to his toes.

They were slow for an incredible amount of time. _Savoring it_ , Barry thought. Their mouths stayed connected with short, sweet, then long, careful kisses as they moved around each other. Len’s breaths were gentle on Barry's face, the heat of their bodies making Barry’s chest slick with his sweat.

Then Len’s mouth dropped to the side of Barry’s neck, and the man’s tongue glided across the sensitive, goosebump ridden skin. Barry’s body vibrated for a moment with shock and Len thrusted upward fiercely in response to it.

And then nothing was fast. Then it was Len’s teeth biting marks into Barry’s skin as Barry’s fingernails dug into Len’s shoulders. It was hot, slick bodies pressing firmly and unevenly against each other, both desperate for a different kind of feeling. It was Barry fucking himself open on Len- faster and faster each time until Len was holding onto Barry for dear life and moaning words to slow for Barry to understand.

Oh _god_ was it _good._ Barry couldn’t stop, really didn’t want to stop- everything was so sensitive and Len was so hot and slick and inside him. He grabbed his own cock, stroking quickly and when he knew he was close to done Barry forced himself to slow down.

Len grabbed the other side of Barry’s neck once he could hold onto the speedster, kissed him roughly with enough force that their teeth clacked together, and with one solid thrust upward Len gave a low groan and was done. Barry barely registered the feeling of being _full_ in more ways than one, his own hand stroking and vibrating quickly enough that he was soon breathing heavily with his forehead pressed against Len’s chin.

When Barry came his whole body curled up, toes grabbing the blanket underneath him, fingers digging into Len’s muscles, as the solid shockwave of heat and pleasure rocked along his bones. As he came Len pushed his body into yet another kiss, and Barry kissed Len back awkwardly as he rode out his orgasm, rocking himself against Len’s cock until the feeling was too intense to bear for another moment.

Len was breathing very heavily.

“Scarlet,” the other man said softly. Len’s hand ran through Barry’s hair affectionately.

 _“Cold,”_ Barry mumbled. The world took a long moment to steady itself, but when it did he noticed just how awkward and uncomfortable the position Barry was. He had to get _off_ Len. Gripping Len’s thigh with one hand, shoulder with the other, Barry pulled himself off with an embarrassingly loud moan. Len tried to help him, but Barry was away in a moment and he dropped his body on the mattress in boneless heap.

“Fuck,” Barry moaned when he understood. He buried his head in his hands.

Len’s hands continued a soft, relaxing brush through Barry’s hair. The other man laid down on the bed beside him. “Hm?” Len asked without words.

“We forgot a condom,” Barry said as his face burned in embarrassment. Could the world stop its quest to humiliate Barry Allen for at least a single afternoon?

“Oh,” Len said when he realized. His hand stopped for a moment, but then it resumed the comforting gesture. “I’ll have Mick heat up a bath for you.”

“Thanks,” Barry said with his face pressed into the comforter, not trusting himself to look Len in the eye.

Len just kissed Barry’s forehead and pulled the blanket over the two of them. “I think I could use a nap,” Len started to say.

“I think you should get on that bath,” Barry mumbled.

Len sighed, “Fine. Bath.”

* * *

 

The hand that shook him awake was not Len; and Barry turned over, confused, to see Shawna standing over him with a finger to her lips asking him to be quiet. Barry glanced over at Len’s sleeping body- it was hard to see considering how dark it was everywhere, and frowned as he sat up. ‘What’? Barry mouthed at her. He reached down to the ground to grab his running jacket and pull it over his head- taking the blankets off instantly made him cold again.

“Can I ask you something in private?” Shawna whispered.

Barry shrugged but nodded. Content, Shawna stepped back silently passed the curtain and was gone in a single moment. Barry just assumed she teleported to the front of the RV where she slept. He pulled on his socks and stepped out of the curtain to go out.

Shawna was at the door, her finger still over her mouth, she gestured outside and then teleported again.

 _“Unm,”_ Barry groaned quietly. It was _below freezing_ outside. He grabbed another pair of socks, a big pair of sweatpants from the same running store raid they’d gone before, and his shoes. His beanie, some red gloves, and then Barry put Len’s parka on because it was fucking cold and it wasn’t like Len was going to be using it at whatever-unholy-hour-it-was o'clock.

 _There had better be a good reason for this,_ Barry thought when he opened the door and felt the blast of cold air hitting him. He shut the door quickly behind himself, crossed his arms, and sloughed through the snow that had already been tossed through their campsite from the blistering and unrelenting wind. Shawna was standing beside the red embers of the bonfire from only a couple hours before- she was wearing her leather jacket, a hat which Barry was sure was actually Lisa’s, and so many scarves that her chin was permanently up in a regal pout.

“What?” Barry asked, jumping up and down in the cold air. The wind tossed the snow over the frozen lake beside them in swirling, beautiful patterns that would have made an amazing photograph if anyone owned a camera.

“I was traveling with these two guys for awhile,” Shawna said softly, tracing a triangle into the snow and ash at her feet, “they were great. We were all let go from that prison of yours when the undead started to rise.”

 _That’s how?_ “The Reverse Flash let everyone go then?”

“I guess we just assumed it was the Reverse Flash. Maybe it was one of your people giving us a fighting chance- but the Reverse Flash was there,” Shawna shrugged.

There was a particularly nasty and cold burst of wind and both of them shivered.

“So me and these guys, Hartley and Mark-”

“Hartley Rathaway and Mark Mardon?” Barry clarified.

“Yes,” Shawna seemed annoyed at being interrupted but continued, “so we were traveling together for while. Everyone got pretty lonely, Mark and I started being an item, you know how that goes. It was-” Shawna paused for a long moment and looked straight out over the lake. “He would sit up at night reading Mark Twain to me. I didn’t have anyone else. It was intense, really fast.”

She looked at Barry with some sort of guilt in her eyes. “The three of us got really close. With Mark and my powers, and Hartley being the brains, the annoying brains, but the brains of the group- we survived for a long time without having to rely on anyone else.”

“I’m sorry,” Barry said, thinking back to the zombie at the Walmart Supercenter and how Shawna was traveling alone. “No one deserves to die like that.”

“They’re not dead,” Shawna corrected. She paused for a moment, opened her hands, and lifted her face toward the cold wind. “Can’t you feel just how bitter the weather is? How sad?”

“No,” Barry frowned in confusion.

“Do you love Captain Cold?” Shawna asked Barry directly, with no warning whatsoever.

Barry blinked at her, too surprised and tired to answer.

“Yeah,” Shawna went on, “I don’t know if I love Mark either. I can’t really say if- like maybe if I was traveling with you guys I’d be with _Mick Rory_. Maybe if I’d been fast enough I could have landed in a group with Idris Elba. How much of this is like- _love_ and how much of it is just being afraid to be alone?”

Barry had no answer for her but the question was one he understood.

“Eventually, Mark, Hartley and I ended up falling into a bad place. We ran out of gas and got trapped in this motel- rationing out whatever we could find. Mark couldn’t manage to hold the weather off for more than a moment- he tried so hard, it’s not his fault- everyone is scared. Everyone is so scared, and Mark feels things so _much-”_

 _It’s impossible, it can’t be but-_ “Is Mark Mardon responsible for-” Barry gestured to the bitter, unnatural winter around them, “all of _this?”_

“I think he’s amplifying it," Shawna guessed with a shrug.  The wind was flinging snow into face, connecting on her eyebrows and eyelashes until her hair was speckled white against the dark brown of her skin. She looked very beautiful standing there beside Barry.  Shawna was beautiful and terribly sad, and Barry regretted instantly that he had just locked the woman up in solitary confinement indefinitely without a trial.

"I think maybe being locked away in that prison of yours sort of just… filled him up with all of this energy and once we got out, we were all so scared, it just exploded out of him and he made the winter worse. He was trying so hard to control it- and he was close, for an entire week the temperature was in the forties and then… then we were running out of food and these raiders came.”

Barry swallowed.

Shawna looked up at the sky, blinking back tears that had already frozen on her face. It was too cold outside- they couldn’t stay out here for too much longer and both of them knew it.

“The raiders wanted us to help them control all their people," she said, the words painful to get out, "This horrible- horrible man, this guy who calls himself Senator DeVoe as if that means anything- he has all of these people in his base. He makes them worship him practically. He insists he’s keeping them safe but he’s not. He… he made Mark steal all the warmth out of the sky for his place, he told them he would kill me or Hartley if Mark didn’t and… and so…”

“How did you get out?” Barry asked, stepping toward her to comfort her.

Shawna shook her head. “They said they’d let me see Mark if I helped them bring… I didn’t get out, Flash. I’m sorry, I’ve been radioing in and… and…”

Barry’s heart started beating so fast he could hear it in his ears. He turned to look at the RV, a feeling of horror and _wrongness_ creeping into his stomach.

“I told them if I got you out… and I got the guns away… I knew you wouldn’t do anything if they threaten to kill Cold,” Shawna’s voice was shaking with guilt and fear. She reached a hand up to her ear to pull out a wireless communication device like the kind Rathaway used to wear to block out sound vibrations for his power. “DeVoe really… he wants to speak with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started reading a ridiculous amount of fanfiction as "research" for writing sex scenes and let me tell you, fanfiction is weird.
> 
> Len was making chili by the way. Terrible, terrible chili with no spices but canned peppers and pepper whatsoever and no tofurkey sausages. The worst chili. He'd be kicked off Chopped immediately. And also Shawna was making a wooden spoon so they could stir the pot without getting scratches because that's the kind of thing I worry about apparently. Improper kitchen practices.
> 
> It's a cliffhanger. Get it?  
> 


	12. The Cult - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of medical violence

_150_ Miles from Central City

_"Hello, Flash. I wonder if you're curious how I managed to track you down-"_

The words DeVoe had said played in Barry's mind on a repeat. There was little else for Barry to do; Barry could hardly move and he'd been lying on the floor of this car for hours with a heavy boot on his neck and an AK-47 aimed at his face.

_"See, I came across this very interesting group of people huddled up in some old church. You rescued them from a hoard but I am the one who saved them from starvation. They told me about you."_

Barry was crushed in the backseat, the guard sitting over him and watching him with obsessive care. Two armed guards, a man and woman, were in the front of the car driving. Barry only assumed Len, Lisa, and Mick were in another vehicle.

Barry hoped Shawna was alright. Hoped she didn't get in trouble for warning him. Also, he kind of wanted to punch her.

_"You could be doing so much good for these people, Flash. Just like all of my emissaries are."_

Barry's legs were hackled together with handcuffs and then tied at his calves, knees, and thighs with cords that dug tightly into his skin and hurt like hell hours later. His arms were tied together at the wrists and a strip of cloth that smelled _like fucking gasoline_ , but was unable to knock him out- it only gave him a searing migraine, the cloth was wrapped around his mouth like a tight gag. It made his tongue dry and it hard to breathe.

_"I only want to talk."_

The woman guard who was driving suddenly turned the wheel and slammed on the breaks with a vengeance. "We're here. Get the Flash up, we're going to make his people carry him."

"Shouldn't we do it?" The guard who had his boot on Barry's neck asked.

"Nah, Chuck," the woman said with the tone of a person in charge, "Flash is dangerous. If he wiggles around or tries to get free he'll probably end up hurting whoever is holding him. Just keep your guns on him- I wouldn't mind testing if the freak is faster than a speeding bullet."

Barry was manhandled up into a sitting position. He stifled a groan as the cords digging into his legs sent shooting pain up his sides. His ankle, which had been feeling fine for so long, was aching with pain and the migraine made Barry's eyes water.

_"I am sure we can come to an arrangement. Everyone can be bought; people deny this but it is true. And since society ended people are far cheaper."_

Barry had to blink rapidly as the door opened and warmth saturated out from the open space. There was green on the ground below him and the sky was blue.

No snow.  It was warm.

 _Holy fuc_ -

A rough looking guard (Barry couldn't think of another name for the captors, they all wore body armor and dark clothing and carried guns) stepped out of a nearby truck and dragged Len out by the man's neck.

Len collapsed on the ground. It took Len a heartwrenching moment before the man's hands pushed against the ground and he was sitting up. Len spit on the ground in defiance.

Barry had been glad a few moments before that he'd been wearing Len's parka over his coat- the smell of the other man was comforting as well as the warmth but now the temperature outside was a horrifying sixty degrees and Barry could feel sweat pooling up on his skin. He was so, so uncomfortable.

The guard beside Len grabbed the man and lifted Len roughly to his feet, Len swayed for a moment and then stood still. The female guard from Barry's car walked over and the two evil-as-fuck-henchmen pulled Len over to Barry's side.

"Carry him," the female in-charge guard ordered.

Len's lower lip was swollen black and the top of his eye was bleeding, the blood already dried and dark and pooling on his purple and yellow eyelid. "You are some kinky as fuck motherfuckers," Len said with an incredibly calm voice.

 _Damn_ it was good to hear Len's voice.

The female guard jabbed Len with her gun and Len raised his hands in surrender. Slowly, his eyes carefully looking back at the guard, Len dropped down to his knees and reached for Barry's shoulders. He pulled Barry up toward the door of the car and then Len's hands brushed along the restraints on Barry's legs. "Those are too tight," Len said with fury, his eyes flashed in anger. _God,_ Barry had never seen _anyone_ so angry. "Your leader isn't going to be pleased if he has to amputate his precious cargo's legs."

"I know how tight they are," the leader, female guard said confidently as she kicked the back of Len's legs, "I worked for the CIA. Now pick him up, we don't have far to go."

Len brushed his hands along Barry's hairline. He kissed Barry's forehead softly, and Barry closed his eyes.  For a moment he could pretend he wasn't in so much pain.  Then Len grabbed Barry's back and hoisted the speedster up over his shoulders. Barry's solar plexus was pushed into Len's shoulder and his arms dangled uselessly at Len's back.

"Gross," the male guard, Chuck, muttered under his breath.

"Don't be homophobic," the female guard said as if that was a thing that mattered. Len was really strong, if Barry's whole body wasn't fucking numb and his stomach was sick from pain he might have been able to appreciate it. Len carried Barry over his shoulder, barely making a noise despite the fact Barry had to be incredibly heavy and Len was no meta-human.

Barry closed his eyes and just tried to concentrate on the movement of Len's shoulders, the tight grip of Len's hands on his hip and thigh, the way that it was warm outside. Not on how Barry felt like he was boiling. At one point Len stumbled and then the guard who had had his foot on Barry's neck was helping, gripping Barry's shoulder and side tightly and easing up the weight on Len. Barry was lithe and skinny, sure, but he was still a full grown man and by the time Len reached whatever point they were at Len's gloved hands were trembling with effort and the man dropped Barry down onto a stone cold floor with a loud moan of relief.

Len fell to the ground beside Barry.

Barry couldn't see much, just the sight of a concrete ground and Len's face in front of him. He reached up with his bound hands to touch Len, try to let the man know _I am alright and you will be too_ to give Len just a hint of the assurance Len always gave him. But Len didn't see his hands and sat up before Barry could reach out to him.

"Now what," Len demanded, his voice ringing through the large, empty space of some courthouse.

Barry struggled to sit up and look around the room but he eventually managed. The courthouse had been stripped off of all the furniture, racks of weaponry hung on the walls and the stone floor, previously bearing a pristine cloud marble pattern, was scratched to hell. A long quilt with uneven stitching hung on the far wall where the flags of the country and state used to be.

About ten guards stood around them; two were stripping Mick Rory of outer layers and hidden lighters while another two held guns on the man. One woman held a knife to Lisa's neck as Lisa glared at her; Lisa looked sickly. Four others were gathered around Len and Barry while the last one, the leader and the female guard, stood by the door with her weapon at her ready.

"General," one of the male guards said to the female leader, "we'll have to untie the Flash to make sure he doesn't have any weapons on him."

"Do the others first," the General ordered curtly.

Mick Rory was left in a dirty wifebeater and the tight black running leggings the man had been wearing under his jeans, which Barry almost laughed at had his mouth not been so dry any movement was painful. Lisa was patted down by the two female guards, at least these henchmen had some common courtesy, and left in a long sleeve shirt and ripped Nike shorts. Who knew Lisa had a pint-sized revolver in her bra, gold razors in her hair, and cat-shaped brass knuckles in her boots? Not even Len, apparently. Barry made another mental note not to get on Lisa's bad side any more than he already had.

They stripped Len to the man's black thermal shirt, taking off his gloves and jeans while making a point to tighten the knife pressed against Lisa's neck. Len had something that looked like a glowstick taped with an abundance of duct tape to his spine. When one of the guards took it off it froze the guard's fingers. Len smirked at the sight. There was a multi-purpose knife in hidden the rubber of Len's shoes that was removed and in the other shoe were lockpicking tools. In Len's jeans pocket were condoms.

Six condoms. One of the female guards pocketed them immediately and then refused to meet anyone's gaze afterward. They let Len put his jeans back on after going through them and finding nothing.

Even through the haze of pain Barry watched the whole exchange in morbid fascination. This was what the Rogues had on them when they'd been _asleep._

Did Len have that absolute-zero glowstick taped to his back all the time? Was it there when they'd been having sex? Why hadn't Barry gotten the memo about secret compartments in shoes and hidden weaponry?

It was another reminded Barry spent his days with _seriously_ successful criminals, honestly. Mick had had a lighter taped to the underside of his balls. Who _thinks_ of that?

"This reminds me of Rikers," Mick Rory said with a chuckle.

Barry, the one in the group who _hadn't_ been to prison, couldn't help the sick feeling in his chest as the guard who had had his boot to his neck lifted him to sit on a chair and then began untying Barry's wrists.

The other guards tightened their grips on the weapons they were holding on the other Rogues. "Hurry up, Chuck," the General said. It was her weapon that was trained on Barry which Barry took as an honor.

Chuck took Len's parka off of Barry, going through the pockets and liner. There was another of those glowstick things sewed into the lining of part of it - _seriously, what if I had touched it while having sex?_   _I was explicitly clear that I wanted dangerous weaponry our of the bedroom._ And Chuck found three condoms which the guard immediately pocketed.

“You guys got any more of those?” The General asked Len.

Len didn’t even look at her, he was too busy staring at his surroundings and the guards beside them.

One of the other guards held Barry’s hands tightly as they took the parka and the red running jacket off, leaving Barry in a red thermal shirt. They took off all the top layers, Barry’s shoes, socks, gloves, and beanie, taking extra care going through them as they seemed to be confused not to find any hidden weapons. They tied Barry’s hands up again behind his back, then cut off the shorts Barry was wearing over his leggings.

Chuck patted Barry down tightly, his hands getting _very_ personal, going so far as to literally grip Barry’s balls through the leggings and feel around them. Which well… Mick _had_ been hiding a lighter there but _fuck_ was it embarrassing and uncomfortable. The guard lifted Barry up slightly, patting around Barry’s ass before his hands _thank god_ moved down to Barry’s thighs and ankles. There were no extra weapons or anything, and Chuck eventually stood up with a shrug to the General. “Make sure he’s still tied up tight,” the General told him.

Chuck rolled his eyes and did, tugging at the cords digging into Barry’s skin and bringing unwanted tears of pain to Barry’s eyes.

Barry caught Len’s gaze and let himself look into the deep brown stare of Len for a long moment. Something deep inside Barry was _hurting,_ far more so than just being tied up and gagged, but the fact Barry h _adn’t used his speed in hours was hurting_. It was honest to god _hurting_ inside of him like something was breaking. His legs being tied up- being afraid to try and vibrate out of his bonds because of the pain it would cause and the fact one of the Rogues being hurt… Barry was trapped.

“If your fearless leader is going to be awhile do you mind taking that gag out of my boyfriend’s mouth before he suffocates?” Len demanded.

It was the first time either of them had said that word, ‘boyfriend’. Which kind of sucked, and Barry really wished Len had waited to say it for a more intimate time.

The General contemplated it for a moment and then nodded to Chuck.

Yesterday Barry had spent two hours in morbid fear of what Joe West and Henry Allen would do when he introduced them to Len, Barry thought as the gag was cut away and his aching jaw was allowed to close, and Barry had thought that was his biggest worry. (Granted, coming out to his father who _literally had no idea Barry ever dated men, Barry had honestly never brought up anyone besides girls that was not going to be fun holy shit, he wanted his dad to be alive but he did not want to have to have that conversation_ was a fucking nightmare, but here was a serious reminder that there were worse problems.)

Also everyone Barry had cared about before could easily be dead now.

But yeah- ruthless dictator who kidnapped them, stole their RV, and seemed to have a thing about controlling metahumans was a big slap of reality.

The shitty, shitty reality.

The General pressed her hand to her ear, nodded to some unseen voice and gave a short reply, then she gestured to the door near the back of the court house where- if an actual government was in order, would be reserved for the judge to enter.

Instead, there was a balding man with a thin black moustache, skinny arms and a potbelly, in dress pants and an expensive looking designer shirt who stepped out. A beautiful woman in a ballgown, with the most disgusted expression on her face that a woman could have, walked beside him and held machete.

“Flash and Company!” The man said with a showman’s voice from the early 1900s, like some strange throwback. Barry really hoped he wasn’t insane. “I am Senator DeVoe it is so nice to meet you.”

DeVoe stepped forward and grabbed Mick’s bound hands, greeting him with a curt nod like this was an election and not some horrible parody of _The Empire Strikes Back_. That analogy didn’t quite fit but for some reason it was the only pop culture reference Barry could think of. (Maybe because Barry had been drawing weird comparison in his head between Han Solo and Len but this was not the time to dwell on those thoughts.)

DeVoe shook Lisa’s hand as well too, and his fingers lingered too long on Lisa’s wrists which everyone noticed.

“Get your hands off of me,” Lisa snapped just as Len said fiercely, “Don’t touch my sister.”

DeVoe raised his hands in surrender and looked sheepish. “I stopped, I stopped, I’m not _that_ kind of a ruler.” The woman behind him with the ballgown and machete rolled her eyes at that.

“Mr. Snart,” DeVoe eagerly made his way to Len and took Len’s bound hands in his own. He shook their hands in greeting with enthusiasm. “I have heard so _much_ about you; you know, I was a research law associate for some of the mob families in Starling and Central. You are quite a legend in your field. _And_ in the End Times as well!” _How is he so cheery?_ Barry thought, feeling nervous the longer DeVoe seemed to dote on Len. “I heard about you saving that girl at the Fryoak Trading Outpost and then you saved those families from the hoard! What a journey, oh, what a journey you’ve had. I suppose the Flash is a good influence.”

Len smiled pleasantly and tilted his head, observing DeVoe with murderous intent. “I’m going to freeze your legs and impale you slowly with an icicle while-”

“Shut him up,” DeVoe ordered quickly. A guard grabbed Len’s mouth, holding Len while Len struggled against him and another of the guards ripped a piece of cloth from one of the clothes on the floor and stuffed it in Len’s mouth to gag him.

DeVoe sauntered over to the chair Barry was propped up on. “I understand desperate times call for desperate measures, my dear Flash, but if handsome men are what you’re looking for I can point you toward several in my little slice of heaven.”

 _Some_ of the blood in Barry’s head, what wasn’t pounding in his ears from his migraine, flushed into his cheeks with embarrassment. “Go to hell,” Barry said through chapped lips and a scratched throat.

DeVoe shook his head sadly. “All these meta-humans. So lost. So confused. They don’t understand what I am offering them,” the dictator bemoaned to the General. He looked back to Barry. “Outside the gates of my compound is a freezing winter; no fresh food; no comforts of the simple life. There is no one there to establish order for you. All I want is to help the worthy people in the End Times create and believe in a new home. A new society. A new life.”

“My friends and I have considered your offer and decided no,” Barry told him.

“If you don’t choose to stay in my compound we will kill you and use your walking corpses for target practice,” DeVoe replied angrily, “so _think it over_.” He made a gesture to the General and the woman seemed to understand it, she quickly stepped forward and ordered the guards to stand at attention. “Put them in the jail with the others, we’ll test their resolve tomorrow.”

“Test?” Lisa asked.

“Not _you_ sweetheart,” DeVoe said earnestly, “the ladies will take care of you. We can’t be killing of women when the whole world needs repopulating.”

Lisa suddenly screamed with rage. She tried to break free of the hold the guards had on her but the two of them held her tightly. Lisa was left kicking wordlessly up at the air.

“We’re not _barbarians,_ Miss Snart, we’re not going to-” DeVoe tried to assure her but Lisa glared at him and screamed a litany of curse words. DeVoe made a dismissive gesture.

“Get those boys ready to fight and make _sure_ the Flash can’t move before you take him to the nurses,” DeVoe ordered. “Not even a _twitch.”_

Barry decided to take a lead from Lisa.  _“Fuck_ you,” Barry snapped angrily.  Cursing was not exactly something Barry was familiar with but it felt good right now.  It felt  _good_.  “ _Y_ _ou dictator cunt_ , you glorified trashbag of a human being, you worthless asshole, you fucking motherfucking douche with a two-bit mustache, you _shit,_ you damn bitch of a cunt of an ass of-” Chuck shoved a gag into Barry’s mouth.

They dragged Mick and Len away first. Barry managed to lock eyes with Len for a single short moment before the man was out of sight. Len looked worried and impressed and… and it was impossible truly to read.

When Len disappeared out the doors of the courthouse Barry felt truly alone.

> * * *
> 
>  

It took them about six tries to get the right dosage of sedative in Barry’s system. The first one had burned through his metabolism in minutes and when they’d taken the gag off of him the General had noticed instantly Barry was only faking being incapacitated.

Keeping Barry tied to some cot in small holding cell, it looked like a small-town sheriff’s office, the General watched the door, two other guards (that Chuck guy who Barry was really starting to hate and another man) kept watch over him as Barry was injected by a mean looking woman in a hairnet and greasy clothes. The fourth sedative knocked Barry out entirely for almost thirty minutes and when Barry woke up he was stuck vomiting into a trashbag while the greasy nurse hit his back and Chuck the guard held him upright.

Barry was so glad he didn’t have to pee yet. He could not imagine dealing with that while tied up like this.

The thought was worrying enough that there was a tiny bit of relief in Barry’s mind when the greasy nurse finally set up a continual stream of sedative, attaching a hospital pack to Barry’s arm full of a combination of water and whatever chemical they were putting into him. “This dosage is enough to knock out a horse,” the nurse said with a voice just as gruff as her appearance, “he’s taking that much every five minutes until it gets the effect.  After that, he can only do this maybe twice.”

“We have a big supply of it,” the General said to the nurse for Barry’s benefit, “it won’t run out. He’s fine.”

When the General finally had Chuck remove the cords from Barry’s legs, Barry had to hold back a sob.

The feeling of movement and ease came back slowly to Barry’s muscles; a freedom to move his legs even a tiny inch beyond what he had before. His entire body still ached to access his speed; Barry resigned himself to accepting that was going to be denied him for however long it took him and the Rogues to escape.

There was no doubt in Barry’s mind they would figure out a way to escape. He’d read the police files on the Snarts and Mick Rory and he knew the three criminals had refined the ability to get out of prisons to almost an art; it was just a matter of _time_ and a matter of how hard Barry was going to superspeed punch DeVoe.

“Get him into the chair,” the General ordered. The greasy nurse brought over a wheelchair which she attached the nutritional bag of sedatives to. They set Barry in the chair and then tied Barry’s left arm, the one with the needle connecting him to the sedative, to the side of it.

There was a feeling the body had when a part of it was pressed against something too long and circulation cut off. When the arm feels boneless, or the leg won’t move because everything is too tired and flat and dead to lift up. Barry’s entire body felt that way; he barely managed to be able to raise his head.

Sedation. Paralyzing agent.

That was one way to knock Barry off his superspeed.  His last thought before the medicine lulled him peacefully to sleep was that he was very afraid.

* * *

 

It was far too easy to fall asleep and Barry felt like he has been resting for only a few minutes when a gentle push on his head woke him up. It happened again.  He could hear a strange stinging noise but it's only when Barry opens his eyes that he realized he’d been slapped twice and the lingering numbness of his body was what had kept him from feeling it.

Barry pulled himself up to his feet, his body feeling weird but somehow he had enough strength to stand. He wobbled on his shaking legs, his previously injured ankle almost giving out and Barry had to grasp onto the nearest object to steady himself.

“Easy there,” said a rather bored voice, “you almost knocked off my glasses.”

It takes a long moment for Barry’s vision to come into focus and by that time the person guided Barry to sit on what felt like a cot bed, Barry’s back resting on a stone wall. When Barry could finally see it was so dark that even his regular vision was having trouble understanding what he was seeing.

The only light came from a window high up in the ceiling and even that light was faint as if it was night, the rest of the room was dark. Two cots were pushed up against the wall on opposite sides of a small room, the room itself being the size of an office, the cots had only two feet of the stone floor between them. On the opposite side of the room from the window was a door and besides that was a bucket. The room was entirely bare of anything else.

Hartley Rathaway had his long green cloak over his shoulders, hood over his eyes, but the rest of his clothes were dusty and worn. The genius was staring directly into Barry’s face, leaning forward on his hands and knees like Tarzan or something and it was fucking weird.

Barry attempted to lift a hand to swat Hartley away but didn’t expect it to work- and yet it did. That absolute dumb feeling in his body was gone and Barry could move himself. _Finally_.

Of course, since he hadn’t expected it to work Barry’s hand flew up with far more force than he intended and he ended up slapping Hartley back.

“Ow!” Hartley grabbed his nose.

“Sorry,” Barry fumbled around, moving his legs, feeling the release of motion in his limbs, “I can _move,”_ he said with excitement.

“Obviously,” Hartley scowled as he sat back on his feet, “they inject all the meta-humans with that shit, some sort of gene paralyzer. They took Mark off of it when they started threatening Shawna and then vice versa. There used to be some ten year old kid who could move shit with his mind and they did that to him to, but the kid was on the paralyzer for too long and he started flipping out and-” Hartley stopped. “Sorry, not what you want to hear I’m sure.”

Barry held his hands out in front of him and tried to vibrate them. It just looked like he was doing jazz hands. “They took my powers? They can do that?” He said with shock.

“Did you hear what I just said? It’s a _paralyzer,_ they only stopped the production of serotonin and GABA in your brain that allows you to access higher physical exertion and you probably have no idea what that means.” Hartley scoffed.

“I went to university. I am a forensic scientist,” Barry felt the need to defend himself.

“I don’t care, I’m not giving you a lecture on the higher brain functions of all of your freak friends unless you beg my forgiveness for defeating my revenge scheme and suck my dick,” Hartley said with scorn. He adjusted his glasses on his face and then pulled his hood down lower over his forehead. “The _Flash,”_ Hartley mumbled.

Barry felt a flush of embarrassment suddenly. Because Hartley was _gay_ and for some reason remembering that fact about the crazy, musically-inclined-or-something genius brought color to his face. Barry stared at the door of their prison.

“They’ll come by probably in the morning, bring us food and then do their best to convince you to work with them before you’re on those meds too long,” Hartley said without prompting. The genius turned around, crawled to the other cot, and then laid down on it with a sigh.

“You were right about Wells, actually,” Barry said.

“I am right about _everything,”_ Hartley replied.

Barry sighed and rested his head down on the cot, laying back on it uncomfortably. There was no possible way he would be going to sleep anytime soon after having just woken up from whatever the hell those drugs had done to him. There were lumps in the mattress and Barry could hear some sort of squeaking from the other side of the room that sounded like a rat- yeah, he was not going to be sleeping at all.

With no pillow, Barry lay on his side and tucked his hand under his head. His muscles ached, legs still hurting from when they were tied up. Apparently, being injected with the gene paralyzer-thing also stopped his fast healing and metabolism. (Could he manage to gain some weight before he got off of it? Just a couple pounds would be grand. Maybe he could request milkshakes and cookie butter from DeVoe when they met.)

“You apologized, wanna suck my dick now?” Hartley said into the silence.

Barry lifted his head up just a bit so he could glare at Hartley in annoyance. “No,” Barry said angrily.

Hartley shrugged and cracked his neck. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. You’re the only cute one they’ve brought into this cell all month.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Barry said, because if Len was going to say it to their enemies than Barry had the right to say it to.

One week after they got together he and Len were ‘dating’.

But was the goddamn apocalypse and Barry felt like he _deserved_ to have something that seemed almost normal. He deserved romance. He deserved sex. Barry had to deal with zombie hoards, cannibals, and now some crazed-meta-human-cult-compound; Barry earned the right to do something reckless and dumb like call Leonard Snart his ‘boyfriend’.

 _Why do I feel the need to defend that so much?_ Barry wondered.

Hartley sat up in surprise, his hood falling off his head and glasses going askew. Barry briefly noticed Hartley’s glasses were broken. “You’re _kidding,”_ Hartley said with so much anger the genius seemed like he was going to explode.

Barry rolled his eyes. “Why would I ever say that if I was joking?”

“The universe hates me!” Hartley groaned. He fell back down on the bed and threw his arm over his eyes in anguish. “The first gay man I meet in the apocalypse is a super-powered hunk who’s _not single_.”

“First of all, I’m _bisexual,”_ Barry said angrily. “Second-”

Hartley wasn’t finished. “Then I’m trapped in a prison for months because without being an actual metahuman DeVoe doesn’t give a shit about me and apparently being a genius isn’t enough for the troglodyte! The Helicobacter pylori!  All I have had for company is a rat and now a guy who won’t suck my dick! This is not at _all_ how I imagined my twenties to go.”

“If you mention me sucking your dick one more time, Hartley, I swear I will beat you up. Powers or no powers, I will punch you in the face,” Barry warned. Because really, he did not need a reminder that Barry had actually _had_ a dick in his mouth yesterday because that was just embarrassing. _Why did I have to tell him I have a boyfriend?_ Barry wondered unhappily.

“Fine,” Hartley said.

 _I know why,_ Barry answered himself, thinking, _because I am happy about it. I am… I have butterflies in my chest?_ That was the only way, really, to describe the happy and nervous sensation of wanting to throw up and also laugh. Barry was being held prisoner by a dictator-psychopath, with no clue if Len, Lisa, or Mick were okay and yet Barry was _freaking out_ because Len had called him his _boyfriend?_

It was so inappropriate. _Boy_ was it inappropriate.

“What’s your boyfriend like?” Hartley asked quietly. Barry glanced at the Pied Piper (Barry suddenly remembered the name Cisco had given the evil genius) and saw Hartley lying with his hood down, fiddling with the cloth of his cloak and looking altogether miserable.

 _Wait, did Hartley say he had a_ rat _for company?_

“Um…” Barry said. He laid down on his back and looked up at the ceiling. There was nothing to see so his eyes turned to stare at the window high up on the wall and the light beam of moonlight that shone through it.

“I’m serious, Flash,” Hartley said, annoyed and yet eager for the information.

Barry had never… talked about Len. Mick Rory and Lisa already knew about him, of course, and they were both unfortunately intimately acquainted to pretty much everything that was going on between Barry and Len. Plus, the two of them were Len’s friends and not Barry’s. In another world Barry could have called up any number of his friends if he had a crush on someone, ranting on about his crush’s traits and what they said, what they wore, how pretty that looked and how nice the sex was (only his closest friends for that one) and yet he had no idea until this moment how lonely he was.

There was no one he had been able to talk to about how he’d overheard Len’s confession to Lisa; no one he could gossip with about Len’s “volunteering of his services” (seriously, Barry was going to tease the man about that next time he had a chance); or about how Len had kissed Barry to distract him from pain and it worked; and then when they had sex the first time and-

Barry did want to talk about Len. Even if it was to Hartley.

“He’s really strong and confi-”

Hartley interrupted immediately. “How strong? Figuratively or muscular? Hulk Hogan muscular or like Adam Levine?”

“Well uh… like maybe a… not quite a Stone Cold Steve Austin?” Barry had no idea why that was the comparison that came to mind. “You know… muscular but not like steroid muscular.”

“Got it. Continue,” Hartley urged.

“Um…” Barry said, “He really supports me; he’s a nicer person than he acts but he always puts up this front. I don’t know why Len is always doing that. He has this kind of persona he likes to put on- but when he’s just around me or in the RV with everyone he relaxes that. I mean… he, he’s still the same guy but he’s not a _bad_ guy.”

 _“Nice,”_ Hartley approved, “does he come with leather jacket and dark hair?”

Barry felt heat rising up on his face. Hartley was not the easiest person to open up to. And _yet,_ Barry had to talk to someone. It was going to be hours before the doors opened anyway. “He has some dumb fluffy parka he thinks is cool. His hair used to be buzzed but it’s been growing back a little. I was thinking of offering to shave it again though since he doesn’t seem to like-”

“Okay, going back to the general build of this guy.” Hartley made some weird shape in the air that Barry didn’t understand, “What does he look like specifically?”

“Well,” Barry said, a bit annoyed at being interrupted all of the time, “he has brown hair and brown eyes. A couple tattoos.”

“I am being as obvious as I can here, Flash,” Hartley said with a sigh of frustration. “I have been alone for a really long time. Could you be a dear and just give me _some_ details?”

“I mean,” Barry said without understanding, “you have met him before.”

“I don’t really run into that many gay people in my circle of work. Or lack thereof since I went to prison,” Hartley shrugged.

“You met Leonard Snart,” Barry reminded him.

Hartley groaned. “He was _gay?_ Are you _kidding?_ The whole time?”

“What?” Barry had no idea what was wrong with Hartley and he was getting a bit tired of catering to the man’s whims.

“He was so _hot!_ Damn it! I should have _actually_ flirted with him not the whole uncomfortable crap; I literally asked the man if he thought I made a sexy twink in my costume ‘cause I thought it would annoy him. What a fucking turn off, _shit,”_ Hartley steamed with embarrassment and regret, grabbing his face with his hands and groaning.

“Please stop talking about how you wanted to seduce my boyfriend,” Barry said humorlessly. But yeah, it still felt good to say the word even if the ‘boy’ prefix still felt odd.

“I want to seduce your boyfriend so bad,” Hartley insisted.

“Hartley, my plan to punch you in the face is still one-hundred percent a possibility.”

Hartley sighed. The genius rolled to his side and looked at Barry from the position. “Can you blame me for being incredibly jealous? I have been alone for a _ridiculous_ amount of time. I had to spend the first month of the apocalypse watching Shawna and Mark do their little dance, be sickly sweet, and then run off for _personal time_ together and I spend the rest of the time locked up in here with a _rat._ Meanwhile my mortal enemy gets to shack up with a sexy piece of ass.”

Hartley seemed to mask any attempt at being understanding and real with confrontation, but Barry was sort of getting that now. “Sorry,” Barry said, “I know. Getting through…” then it was Barry’s turn to make a gesture with his hands that didn’t quite make sense, “this whole mess is a lot harder without someone.”

“I’m just sick of being _lonely,”_ Hartley muttered.

Barry didn’t reply to that for a long moment, long enough that Hartley had thrown his hood back down over his face with embarrassment and rolled over to face the wall. “Do you have anyone…?” Barry didn’t quite finish the sentence, the words suddenly seeming painful when Barry realized just how many people in his own life were missing.

Barry envied Len for a moment. Everyone Len cared about, Len had nearby during the entire apocalypse. Even Barry, Len’s _crush_ was with him. Len was probably the luckiest bastard in the world.

“I guess I’m concerned about my family but I hadn’t seen them for years even before this,” Hartley said thoughtfully, “I am concerned about the world series.”

“Huh?”

“Baseball. What’s going to become of baseball now? Are all my favorite teams dead?” Hartley wondered aloud. “I know that’s not really as important as _people_ but perhaps my subconscious is projecting worries onto a third party object, though honestly... What the fuck is going to happen to baseball?”

“I think I’ve spent an unreasonable amount of time hoping Scarlet Johansson is okay,” Barry said suddenly.

Hartley grinned, and Barry couldn’t help the same look coming across his face. It was just… friendly, even if Hartley Rathaway was… well… Hartley. Barry had made stranger friends in the apocalypse.

“Who is going to work on STEM cell research now? What about molecular fusion and interspecies communication?”

“Is there still going to be NCIS?”

“I had it on good authority a company was researching a cure for cancer with startlingly positive results.”

“Are ninjas still around? Do you think after this there’ll be a history book somewhere detailing how ninjas fought zombies?”

“What about my own projects? Fuck, all my psychological studies and soundwave projects are going to rot.”

“Is there actually a rat in here?”

“…Yes. They’re intelligent creatures.”

“I do not want to see it.”

“Her name is-”

“Do not introduce me to your rat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to find a good balance between the characterization of Hartley in the Flash CW show (which I didn't like too much) and the comics. Also, at the moment I am so annoyed at the way James Jesse's character was in the show like... god. I did not like that. Seriously. And it has really thrown me off with what to do with the Trickster.
> 
> Okay... Leonard Snart in comics has either white hair and blue eyes or brown hair and brown eyes. Wentworth Miller, brown hair and a light green-ish maybe eyes? It's confusing. I went with brown and brown.
> 
> And poor Barry moves farther away from Central City now.
> 
> Also the chapters are getting longer without my permission. Yikes.


	13. The Cult - Part 2

150 Miles from Central City

Hartley shook Barry awake when the knock came on the door, apparently Barry had managed to fall asleep at some point in the night.

Barry lifted himself up to stand with shaking limbs. The gene paralyzer made him weak even for a regular human. Or maybe Barry had always been this weak and he had just forgotten what it was like being a lanky, nerdy mess of limbs and poor coordination.

The door opened right as Barry looked at the bucket by the door with longing and foreboding- he had to pee but now really wasn’t the time. The guard from before, Chuck, (aka one of Barry’s least favorite people) stood outside the door, holding his AK-47 to his chest and grumbling with apprehension, “The two of you better not be doing nothing.”

Hartley visibly winced and said to Barry, “I hate him. I hate his vocabulary so much.”

“Shut up Rathaway, I’m here for Flash,” Chuck the henchman guard man (who just... sucked as a human being) said and he pointed the gun straight at Hartley. Hartley raised his hands in surrender immediately.

“Alright,” Barry moved to the door but then the gun was pointed straight at Barry’s head.

“Stop,” the guard ordered. The man nodded to someone behind him and then took a single step into the room to make space for another guard, a woman with a nasty scar over her eye and chin.

The woman tossed a long cord of rope and a pair of handcuffs to Hartley’s feet. “Handcuffs on his wrists in front of him. DeVoe wants Flash to be able to use his hands,” the woman said in monotone, “tie the Flash’s ankles loose enough for him to be able to walk.”

“Hot,” Hartley said simply. He took the handcuffs and Barry held out his wrists in front of himself with a sigh. Hartley clicked the handcuffs on and then Chuck reached over and made sure they were tight enough. Hartley did the same with the cord, wrapping it around Barry’s ankles twice each and tying it enough to give Barry about shoulder-width length of space in between them. Again, Chuck checked it to make sure it was right. When he was still on his knees checking the rope, Hartley looked up at Barry with a grin. “I feel like we’re getting to know each other _so_ well,” Hartley drawled.

Chuck the guard kicked Hartley hard in the shins. “Shut the fuck up, Rathaway.”

“Bastard,” Hartley winced as he grabbed his ankle in pain.

“Heads up, Rathaway,” the woman said as she backed out of the door with her eyes trained on Barry, “the General is starting to think you don’t know how to fix those solar panels.”

“Maybe if they let me work on it more than two hours a day they would have their damn generator,” Hartley snapped.

“It’s just a warning, Rathaway,” the woman said emotionlessly, “you know you won’t last long if they send you to the yard.”

Hartley paled. Barry hadn’t heard anything about that before; “The yard?” He asked.

“Shut up and step forward, Flash,” Chuck the guard said as he jabbed Barry’s side with his gun. Barry jumped to attention and walked carefully out of the door, still getting used to the ropes restricting the movement on his feet. The cuffs on his wrists were already beginning to chafe.

“DeVoe is going to talk to you,” the woman said as she led Barry out of the room and through a long hallway. Barry was right about the room he was in being the size of an office. He was led past a large room full of ransacked cubicles, and as they made their way down the hallway Barry felt like he was stepping through the Twilight Zone. The building seemed _pre_ -Apocalypse; there was a conference room they walked by, the carpeting was suitably terrible, and there were even old, dollar-store paintings hung haphazardly on the wall. “Word of advice,” the woman began.

“Stop giving prisoners advice,” Chuck groaned.

The woman glared at him, which was a formidable expression considering the scar covering half her face, and continued, “DeVoe is the kind of man who gives presents to people who shut up and listen and who beats silence into those he doesn’t. I’ve seen plenty of people dragged in here who waste their time worrying about their families and lose their self preservation. DeVoe wants you, but he doesn’t need you and the man knows it.”

Barry nodded. “What is the yard?” Barry asked her.

Chuck’s gun prodded Barry’s back in annoyance but the other guard was considering his question. They reached a flight of stairs which was being watched by another person in the same combat gear as the other guards, expect this person was a twelve-year old girl. The girl held a small revolver in her hand and her head barely moved as she watched Barry step down the stairs with a sour expression.

“Proving grounds,” the woman said, “for the men. We only have so much food; DeVoe insists that-”

“No man who can’t fight off a bunch of walkers deserves to stay here,” Chuck said with a growl, “DeVoe is _right.”_

The woman’s voice was hollow when she replied, “Of course DeVoe is right. I’m just telling Flash what it is.”

“It doesn’t matter, Rachel,” Chuck said angrily, “the freak doesn’t have to prove himself.”

The woman’s knuckles were white around her weapon but her expression became blank. They reached the bottom of the stairs and she opened the door with a rough push. The woman held the door open for Barry, since it would have been difficult for Barry to do as tied up as he was, and Barry stepped outside.

It still felt weird that the world was summer here. The grass on the plains outside was unnaturally bright green with clovers and dandelions that covered the ground with a ridiculous abundance. The trees lining the building were in all stages of life- there were trees with yellowing leaves, trees that were just starting to bud, and trees that were still stripped bare from the force of winter. It was as if the world was spring, summer, and fall at the same time and it couldn’t quite decide.

There was a ring of RV’s and cars around the open space of what appeared to be a small town city center. On the far right of the compound was a municipal building where Barry assumed he’d been brought to first and across from that a sheriff’s office. Where Barry had just come from was a two story, small block building and directly across from that a weathered down road leading toward a small strip mall. There was a drive through Starbucks and then a long strip of different sorts of buildings that had all been completely emptied and apparently refurnished into homes. As Barry was guided toward those buildings, he noticed that, on the opposite side of the clearing from the municipal building, the car-and-RV makeshift fence came to an end, leaving a small opening by the road which was guarded by several men standing on a truck.

If Barry just had his powers it would be _so easy_ to grab Len, Lisa, and Mick and just run them out of there. Of course, the problem then would be the freezing winter outside and how they would survive without their RV, which was nowhere to be seen. It was still a lovely fantasy.

There were very few people walking around outside. Every adult Barry saw just walking around was unarmed, it seemed like there was a strong disparity between the adults in combat gear and the ones in sweat covered, gardening clothes.

 _Right,_ there was a garden somewhere. Barry saw lots of people walking around behind the store buildings and assumed that was where it was.

Barry was led over to the Starbucks. _Of course, the den of evil is a Starbucks_ , Barry thought. He wished Iris had been there and he could have made the joke to her. Iris would have laughed and talked about how Jitters was the _real_ source of Central City coffee.

It was not fun thinking about Iris like that. As if she was gone forever. Barry might have moved on from wanting something romantic between them but Iris was still the friend he had grown up with; there was no one in Barry’s life closer to him than her and he felt a painful constricting in his chest every single time he remembered that Iris was out there, somewhere, without Barry to protect her.

He wished he had worked up the courage to tell Iris that it was okay for her to be with Eddie; Barry would have been able to assure her, tell her it wasn’t her fault that Barry was unhappy alone. Barry had tried to force a relationship when there really hadn’t been a place for it in their lives yet. He loved her, and he knew Iris did love him, but just because they felt that way it didn’t mean the two of them were meant to be a couple.

Apparently, fate was far more open to Barry and _Captain Cold_ of all people which was a strange reality. Barry really wished Iris could have met Len; he wished he could hear what she thought of the nemesis-turned-boyfriend.  He'd give anything to know if Iris thought Barry was being stupid or if Len was good for him.

The woman, Rachel, opened the door for Barry. Chuck slammed his gun into Barry’s shoulder blade to make Barry step forward.

“Starbucks was never my favorite coffee place,” Barry said as he walked into the building.  The unlit space took time for his eyes to adjust.

“What a pity,” DeVoe replied, “I have some coffee for you, regardless.”

Barry blinked, and saw DeVoe sitting at a corner booth in the back holding a small cup of coffee. The man was wearing the exact same suit and tie outfit as he had the day before and the woman, in a black evening dress now (which looked eerie and out of place in the morning) was standing beside a tray with a coffee pot, nondairy creamer, and some packs of stevia and sugar. The General, looking as grim as ever, was sitting in a chair at the far end of the room holding a cup of coffee that she wasn’t drinking from.

“Come, sit down,” DeVoe said in a friendly tone.

Barry shuffled slowly over to the booth, sitting down awkwardly across from the dictator holding him captive. A lot of things came to mind for Barry to ask but then he remembered Rachel’s warning to be careful what he said. It wouldn’t hurt to listen to her.

The beautiful woman who wore the evening dress in the early morning set a coffee mug in front of Barry that said _World’s Best Boss_ in large black letters. She poured coffee into it. “Cream and sugar?” The woman asked in an incredibly bored tone.

“Uh,” Barry said, “yes.” He wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to pour it with handcuffs, even the act of lifting the coffee mug to his lips was going to be a challenge.

The woman, however, did it for him. She ripped one packet of the nondairy creamer and two sugars into the mug then stirred it with a spoon. She set the spoon down beside the mug gently.

“Darling,” DeVoe said to her, “will you check on the breakfast and bring it out when it’s ready?” The woman in the evening dress nodded and left. “Now,” DeVoe said eagerly to Barry, “I was really hoping to get a frank discussion with you. And since we’re on a first name basis, Flash, you can call me Clifford.”

“My name is Bartholomew,” Barry corrected.

DeVoe frowned at him. “Ah. I thought your name was Flash.”

 _“The_ Flash is what I called myself in costume,” Barry said. He took a sip of the coffee and it was bitter, tasteless, hardly palatable and _so great, wow_ , actual coffee. “Like the Arrow does.”

“Bartholomew,” DeVoe repeated, “a mouthful. I’m going to call you, Bart.”

Barry winced.

“Now, Bart,” DeVoe said, obviously pleased with himself, “what do you think of my little compound? We have fresh food, a beautiful crop of vegetables coming in nearly every week, and quite an army of skilled defenders protecting us from the undead beasts outside and those horrible groups of raiders. Your fellow super-skilled human beings, Marco Mardon and Shawna Baez have adjusted _quite_ well here even though they were just as reluctant as you.”

“Shawna says you threatened to kill Mark if she didn’t turn us in,” Barry couldn’t help bringing up.

“Well yes, of course,” DeVoe said unapologetically, “and we can quite easily do the same to Mr. Snart. Of course I do wonder if you would perhaps consider Hartley?”

Barry felt immensely uncomfortable. “If I’d _what?”_

“If you’re not very attached to Mr. Snart, that is,” DeVoe explained, “see, Leonard Snart has quite a vicious reputation and I would rather not deal with the man if I had to. Mick Rory has his uses, you see, someone that vicious and manipulate-able is very nice to have in the End Times, and Miss Snart is a very beautiful and headstrong woman. Leonard Snart however is a little problematic for me and I’d rather get rid of him if it makes no difference to you.”

Barry’s hands froze on the coffee cup as he stared.

DeVoe squinted at Barry’s face, reading some sort of expression on it. “Men like Leonard Snart,” DeVoe said in a misleadingly sing-song tone, “are just a _nuisance_ when it comes down to it. Hartley is a very nice gentleman. I do know another man in my camp who can have good time with anyone if that is more what you’re after. What are your thoughts on that, Bart?”

DeVoe was asking for Barry’s permission to _kill_ Leonard. When Barry finally found his voice it was more than clear that Barry was horrified; Barry’s voice _shook._ “I, I’m attached,” Barry said quickly, “very attached. It definitely makes a difference to me. Please-” _And now I just sound incredibly desperate_ , “don’t kill him.”

DeVoe shrugged. “Fine, though the decision isn’t up to me if Mr. Snart or Mr. Rory don’t survive the yard. We have our traditions here.”

“That’s where…” Barry said carefully, “you have the men fight the walkers?”

“Just to make sure no one weak gets stuck in our ranks,” DeVoe replied calmly, “we can’t be wasting food.” The sinister man ran a hand over the thin mustache on his face and gave a quick, hungry glance toward the door where the woman in the evening gown had left. “Now is there anything I can do for _you,_ Bart my boy, to get you a little more gung-ho about joining my family?”

Barry wished he could hear Cisco and Caitlin in his ear giving him advice. He just didn’t know how to _respond_ to the man in front of him; the crazy, kidnapping, monster of a man who somehow had an entire army at his disposal with all their weaponry pointing at Barry and the Rogues to keep them put. “My family is in Central City,” Barry said slowly. He frowned. “If you let me and the Rogues continue and find them we will come back here. There’s obviously no place safer for us to be, so why not?” Barry had no intention, of course, of bringing anyone else back here _especially_ Iris or Caitlin. There was definitely something creepy about the way the only women Barry saw holding guns were disfigured in some way, besides the young girl, and how the one woman was wearing an evening dress in the early morning while looking incredibly miserable. Plus, Barry doubted Cisco, Joe, or his father had too much a chance surviving whatever gauntlet DeVoe was going to make… Len go through.

“If they’re living in a city they’re probably already dead,” DeVoe said with a ring of delight, “you know how it goes in the stories. The cities are hit the hardest.”

“Don’t make Len or Mick go through the test,” Barry tried.

“I told you I can’t do that, every man has to go through it.” DeVoe reached out suddenly and placed his hand on Barry’s wrist.

Barry flinched. “I’m sorry, Bart my boy,” DeVoe told him, “but it’s up to your friends whether or not they live through today. I promise if Mr. Snart makes it out alive I will send him straight up to you so you can see him.”

Barry’s hands were shaking and it had nothing to do with his powers. He was just scared. There was nothing Barry had been able to _do_ to protect any of his friends and family; he’d been too far _away_ and now _he had no idea what had happened to them_. What had happened to the prison his father was in? Did Joe West make it? Was Iris okay? Cisco? Caitlin? What about Oliver, Felicity, or Ray? Laurel? _Fuck,_ Barry thought miserably, _not Len too._

“Can I be there when it happens?” Barry asked quietly.

He felt so weak. His powers were stripped away and any control or ability he had to protect the Rogues had been ripped out from under him. It was like he was standing on the edge of a cliff with no ability to step away; he was just staring into the abyss waiting to see how long it would take before his legs gave out and he fell.

“I’m afraid not,” DeVoe said calmly, “it is a rather messy process if the person doesn’t survive it. You know how those undead get, such ravenous creatures. I’d rather not have you privy to the sight, honestly, if your lover _does_ get eaten.”

Barry’s hands shook so hard the handcuffs started to rattle. His breath was short and there was a burning sensation behind his eyes and nose telling him he was close to having a breakdown. _“Please_ don’t do this,” Barry said, his voice was low and quiet. He knew he was begging. Barry was close to not caring. “Just let Len go. At least let Len go. I’ll be your speedster; I’ll do whatever it is you want me to do.” _I can’t lose anyone else._

“I’m afraid, as I said before, that is just something I cannot give you,” DeVoe said with a sigh, “all the men must go through the yard. If I make an exception for one of them without a good reason I am sure to have a riot on my hands; I had a difficult time anyway making them understand why you, Mark, and Hartley were too valuable to risk. I doubt I can explain it to them that yet _another_ one of your little gang was getting out of the test just for some gay love affair.”

Barry held back the tears threatening to fall from his eyes by imagining DeVoe underneath his hands as Barry was punching him. Barry was going to hit the man so hard, so fast- in only a few seconds DeVoe’s face would be unrecognizable. He was going to make DeVoe pay for the bruises on Len’s face, for the torment and fear DeVoe was making Lisa go through, and for making Barry _beg._

“If Len dies I won’t do _anything_ for you,” Barry promised. “I don’t _care_ what you do to me or anyone else. If Len dies I will blame you for it.”

DeVoe shrugged and Barry was reminded of what the female guard, Rachel, had said. ‘ _DeVoe wants you, but he doesn’t need you and the man knows it_.’ “Here’s to Leonard Snart,” DeVoe raised his coffee mug up in the air, “may he survive his upcoming-” suddenly, DeVoe looked at his watch, “oh, his _current_ fight in the yard.”

Barry’s stomach lurched. His chest was hot and heavy, the lack of water in his system suddenly manifested into a massive migraine and Barry’s hands were shaking so hard that the clacking of the handcuffs was practically beating out a rhythm.

“Come on, Bart my boy,” DeVoe said, still holding up his coffee cup, “you have to click your glass to mine or it isn’t a toast.”

Barry tried to comply but the weakness in his arms and the rising fear in his chest made the task too difficult.

“Oh, I do hope you’re at the right dosage of the sedative,” DeVoe said with genuine concern. “I would hate to lose another of my super humans.”

Barry raised his shaking hands to his face and covered his expression with his hands.

Len was fighting for his life _right now_. Len was the only thing that made this apocalypse bearable. Len was the _only_ distraction Barry had. When they were together the most important thing in Barry’s life was their relationship; he could ignore the decay of the world around them and focus on ridiculously mundane things like how he was going to come out to his father, or how Len’s mouth curled up in a silly smirk whenever the man said something clever. Barry _needed_ Len. Barry _didn’t know what he’d do without him_.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?” A woman- Rachel, the guard, asked.

“Oh, I’m fine,” DeVoe said even though the question was not really directed at him at all. Everyone else seemed to know that.

 _Egomaniac,_ Barry decided, _true narcissistic personality disorder. Douchebag._ “Yes,” Barry said. Because he did, actually, and because he wasn’t sure he could spend another second of DeVoe’s attention.

Rachel’s hand went to Barry’s shirt and she pulled Barry roughly up to his feet. Barry wobbled again, his aching and sedated limbs struggling to get purchase on the ground.

The zombies could be ripping Len to pieces right now and Barry was waiting to have breakfast with Clifford DeVoe.

“Up you go,” Rachel said. She put her arm under Barry’s shoulder to support him and guided Barry along the side of the café. Chuck followed them with his gun pointing very clearly at Barry’s skull. It didn’t take them long to cross the short room and make it into the men’s bathroom. Rachel guided Barry over to a urinal and then stepped away from him and turned her back. Chuck didn’t, of course. “You should actually go,” Rachel told Barry.

Barry didn’t have any emotions to spare for self-pity. He used the urinal quickly, ignoring the watching eyes of the other guard, and then reached for the sink to wash his hands. The sink didn’t work, of course.

“There are wipes,” Chuck said gruffly. Barry saw them then, he took one and washed his hands with it and then tossed it into a trashcan.

“DeVoe is not easy to talk to,” Rachel said when she turned back around to Barry, “he doesn’t have sympathy for people.”

“It’s the reason everyone in our town is alive,” Chuck added with annoyance.

“What happens in the yard?” Barry asked. His voice was suddenly angry and Barry hadn’t even realized it had happened. He could feel it then, the fear in his chest turning into a bitter loathing and hatred. The fantasy of him superpunching DeVoe until the man was a mass of bruises and blood came back with a vengeance- it was scary, it was not the sort of thing Barry had ever let himself think about before but… _Len could be dying_ , Lisa was scared to death, Mick was having _god knows_ happen to him because maybe Mick hadn’t survived the yard either. DeVoe had done this to all of the survivors in this camp. He’d made them live through this _hell_ and all the people who survived were too grateful or scared to go against the man.

“You stand in a trench,” Rachel said emotionlessly, “ten foot deep, about the size of a UFC ring. We bring out the undead and you get to have one weapon to fight them, combat knife, machete, baseball ball, or whatever we have on us. They bring out one zombie at first. If you survive it, then two at once and if you survive that then three at once.”

“Only six in total,” Chuck said with a hint of pride in his voice, “the trick is all in getting a good weapon. I killed mine with a hatchet.”

It was happening to Len right now and Barry couldn’t even go out and watch.

“How often do people die?” Barry asked.

“Most of the time,” Rachel replied. “You should get back to DeVoe now; he wants to have breakfast with you. He thinks you’re neat.”

The phrasing was weird and yet oddly appropriate. ‘Neat’. Like the metahumans were just interesting toys in a collection.

“Alright,” Barry said. He walked out of the bathroom on his own. When he stepped out, DeVoe was sitting at the table while the woman in the evening gown placed two steaming plates of food on the table with tall glasses of water. DeVoe was more focused on the food when Barry sat back down in the booth. There were hashbrowns, pieces of toast with jam, and neatly sliced cuts of banana; the nicest meal Barry had seen in the apocalypse and yet he knew he couldn’t eat.

If DeVoe wanted Barry and the metahumans to be his entertaining collection of freaks than Barry would do it. Whatever it took to escape.

“Do you have any questions about me?” Barry asked. DeVoe looked up with a bright smile.

“Oh, _yes,”_ the man said eagerly with a mouth full of hashbrowns. DeVoe swallowed and took a big glass of water.

Barry reached for his water too, taking a sip. It felt so good to have the cool liquid on his throat but he couldn’t manage to drink too much at once without his stomach churning. Barry kept a cool expression on his face.

“How did you get those remarkable superpowers?” DeVoe wondered.

“I was struck by lightning,” Barry told him.

“Amazing! Amazing!” DeVoe said with enthusiasm. “What is the fastest you’ve ever run?”

“I broke the sound barrier,” Barry said. He continued to answer DeVoe’s questions as the food in front of him went cold. Barry lied just as much as he told the truth. At one point Barry launched into the story of how he met and defeated Mark Mardon and DeVoe stared at him with utter fascination as Barry told him about the tornado. By the end, DeVoe was smiling at him.

* * *

 

Rachel and Chuck took Barry on a walk around the office building after the breakfast with DeVoe. They circled it three times and by the end Barry’s legs were so weak he had to go back to leaning on Rachel for support.

When they brought Barry back the cell, Hartley wasn’t there. Barry remembered whatever it was that Hartley had said about working on solar panels and hoped that was what the genius was up to.

When he and the Rogues finally escaped, Barry was going to make sure they got Hartley out with them. Shawna and Mark too; Shawna wasn’t the one responsible for bringing them into this mess and neither of them deserved to play the role of Clifford DeVoe’s pet meta-human any more than Barry did.

When Barry made it back to the room he pretty much collapsed on his cot.

“There will always be a guard outside your door,” Rachel said before she shut it, “yell if you want us to bring you food or if you used the bucket and we need to take it out.”

“DeVoe said he would bring Len to me right away if Len made it,” Barry said out loud. He wasn’t sure if he was reminding Rachel or himself. Rachel just shut the door and with that Barry was alone.

Except of course for the rat which was sitting on Hartley’s cot.

Its small paws were reaching up to its face and rubbing down its long snout. The rat was brown, with very well tended to fur and there was a little ring of pink plastic around one of its hindpaws. It seemed to notice Barry’s gaze and looked up at Barry, nose twitching and animal eyes fixed with no explainable expression.

Barry watched the rat scuttle around Hartley’s cot, apparently more comfortable there than anywhere else. It varied between chewing on the far corner where already there was a significant hole in the lining, or running up and down the cot for no apparent reason at all. The rat gave Barry something else to look at and think about. He couldn’t blame Hartley, if Barry had been stuck here as long as Hartley had then Barry would have probably made friends with a rat too.

“I forgot to ask Hartley your name,” Barry said to the rat. She stopped at the noise and her hairless tail twitched. Barry sort of wanted to reach out and try petting her but he decided to wait for Hartley to come back, he wasn’t sure if she was friendly. The rat certainly was avoiding Barry’s side of the room.

“We didn’t get much of a warning, you know,” Barry told the rat. She sniffed the air and then went back to chewing on the corner of Hartley’s cot and pulling out fluffs of cotton. “When we were told about the Man in the Cloak and the N Device we didn’t get much of a warning. I tried hard to run to New Mexico in time; I tried three times and I never got farther than the middle of nowhere in Indiana before the dead started coming to life. I tried to feel guilty about it for awhile but I don’t really anymore. What else could I do? Fastest man alive and even I couldn’t stop the Man in time.”

The rat really didn’t care about Barry at all; she was far too focused on destroying Hartley’s cot one tiny piece at a time.

“Maybe it was inevitable that this would happen. Maybe _Hal Jordan Radio_ is right and there’s a way to stop any more dead from coming to life. Maybe I should stop talking to a rat.”

Barry sighed and turned on the cot to stare at the ceiling. Eventually his thoughts turned back to the idea of Len being eaten alive and… he just turned back to his side and stared at the rat. She was a pretty generic looking rat. Brown fur and a hairless tail. Skinny when she was running and bunched up and fat when she was sitting still.

Barry had just decided to _go for it_ and try to pet her, reaching his index finger across the divide of the cots for the rat to sniff when he heard a solid clicking at the door before it opened entirely. Chuck glared from the entrance as Barry stared at the man wordlessly.

“DeVoe wants this door _open,”_ Chuck said sternly to Barry. Barry’s heartbeat was pounding so hard he could feel it all over his entire body. “I will be right outside with my partner listening to everything you two are saying, got it? And there are three guards in the hallway now if you two try to run. Don’t be stupid.”

“He’s okay?” Barry’s voice was so much angrier than he felt, “Is he okay? Is Len okay?”

“Hey!” Chuck said angrily. The man gripped the AK-47 holstered across his chest tightly. “Look at me, if you two say a single word about escape I promise we will drag that man’s ass out of here and back to the basement.”

 _Huh. So the other prisoners were kept in the basement?_ Barry filed the information away, wondering if it would ever be important.

“And I really don’t want to have to hear the two of you…” Chuck looked like the words pained him to say, _“doing_ shit, so… don’t.”

“For heaven’s sake, Chuck,” Rachel said from somewhere outside the door, “just let them bring the man in here; he was _just_ in the yard.”

When Len stepped through the doorway Barry jumped to his feet and in his enthusiasm almost fell over on his sedated legs. Len grabbed Barry by the waist and held him upright.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Len smelled a bit like death, it was that smell that always hung around, impossible to get out, whenever anyone was near the undead. Len’s lip was still bruised and a bit swollen, and the cut along his eyebrow hadn’t been cleaned at all. Barry doubted anyone would waste medical supplies on a man who was likely to die, except Len _hadn’t._

Barry struggled to get his knees locked and stand, Len being an unmoving pillar which Barry grabbed onto for support until his aching and weak limbs managed to get some sort of footing on the ground. Len just stared at Barry’s face the entire time. The man’s expression was unreadable.

“You’re okay,” Barry said to break the silence. He reached up and brushed a finger against the scabbing cut on Len’s eyebrow. Len winced a bit and Barry pulled his hand away. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Mick and I made it out of the stupid test fine,” Len told him. Len’s hands tightened around Barry and he pulled the speedster closer until they were wrapped in a hug, Len’s head resting on Barry’s shoulder. _“You’re_ okay?”

“They put some weird chemical stuff in me but it apparently wears out in a week or so. I’m pretty shaky and I can’t use my powers but I’ll live,” Barry said.

Len was _okay._

“When I figure out where they’re keeping Lisa,” Len began to say.

Barry interrupted him immediately. “If you say anything about escaping the guards at the door will make you leave.”

Len gripped Barry’s shoulders tightly and took a step back look Barry in the eye. “Lovely,” Len said, frowning at the open door behind him.

“I don’t think they’ll hurt Lisa. DeVoe said he wouldn’t do anything without her permission,” Barry said. He wasn’t sure how assuring that would be.

Len’s jaw clenched with anger. “DeVoe is a manipulator; I'm certain he will get what he wants if we stay too long.”

There was a warning noise from just outside the door as the guard, Chuck, cleared his throat.

There was a lot Barry wanted to say to Len but none of it came to his mind in any form of a coherent sentence. Mostly Barry was just feeling an intensely powerful sense of relief. “You’re okay,” Barry said again.

Len furrowed his forehead and looked at Barry with confusion. “You did say you’re not… did they say what was in those injections they gave you?”

“I was scared you were going to die,” Barry told Len. The words came out of his mouth without too much feeling, but Barry’s hands had started to shake again.

Len’s eyes widened with understanding. He grabbed Barry’s hands and held them up to his mouth. “I’m alive, Barry, I’m here. I didn’t get hurt.”

“I- I don’t know why,” Barry said quietly, “I just kept picturing you getting eaten by those things. We haven’t… you know… we haven’t been more than a couple yards apart since ‘we’ started.”

“I’m okay,” Len kissed the palm of Barry’s hand. “I’m okay. I didn’t even get scratched. I took a bat with some barbed wire, kept my back at the edges of the ring, and hit them when they got close. Didn’t even get a scratch on me.”

“You said I was your boyfriend,” Barry said suddenly.

Len raised an eyebrow. He pulled Barry just a bit closer with Barry’s arm and kissed Barry’s shoulder. “Hm, I suppose,” Len said smugly.

“I told Hartley you were my boyfriend,” Barry said.

Len grinned. He pressed his mouth to Barry’s neck. “Hm,” Len mumbled.

“So…” Barry said, a bit annoyed Len wasn’t responding with actual _words,_ “I guess that’s that then?”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your mouth,” Len said softly into Barry’s ear. The man’s teeth gently ran down the side of Barry’s ear and neck.

Barry shivered and his hands grabbed the back of Len’s shirt for support. “I guess ‘ _that’s that then_ ’?” Barry repeated.

“I guess that’s that, then,” Len muttered and his tongue brushed along Barry’s earlobe before his teeth gently pressed into it, tugging with only the slightest hint of pressure.

“Hey!” Came a voice from by the door. Rachel right? Was the woman’s name Rachel? Barry wasn’t sure now. “I’m going to shut the door.” And the door shut not too long after that with a hard slam and a click.

“Thank god,” Len said, pushing away from Barry quickly. “We do _not_ have much time. Also, sit down, you’re wobbling.”

Barry had to grab Len’s arm to sit down without falling.

“Mick and I are in the basement, I figure they’re going to make us do a bunch of gardening before we get anywhere near the guns. We don’t have enough time to wait for that. How long until those chemicals wear out?” Len was suddenly pulsing with energy and that same, incredible confidence.

Barry wrapped his arms around Len’s neck and leaned against him. “A week,” Barry told him. _Len is okay_ , Barry thought again. “Hartley, Shawna, and Mark have to come with us.”

“Hartley, not Shawna or Mark,” Len dismissed. He put his arm around Barry’s shoulder and then his chin was tucking Barry’s head in to his chest, his other hand reaching for Barry’s hand.

“Shawna was only trying to protect Mark,” Barry insisted. He rubbed his thumb in comforting circles into Len’s palm. “You would have done the same for Lisa and me.”

“I can’t trust her,” Len said.

“She can’t stay here. DeVoe wants to keep us meta-humans as some sort of… toys to take out of a box and play with. No one deserves that.”

Len kissed the top of Barry’s head. “If they help us get out of here, and it isn’t an issue getting them with us, than fine.”

“Thank you,” Barry said quietly. He took Len’s hand then and pressed it against his mouth with a gentle kiss, just the way Len had done before. “DeVoe and I had breakfast in the Starbucks.”

Len thought for a moment. “The man seems like the kind of person to stay on a schedule. That’s good. Mark Mardon is kept in that sheriff’s office, they locked him up and have some wind-up record player to keep him calm. If he and Shawna are together than Shawna will be there.”

“Hartley is locked up in this room with me.”

“Mick is with me in the basement. I don’t know where Lisa is.”

“There aren’t too many other places in this town. My guess would be the shops by the Starbucks?”

“Barry,” Len said with a sudden edge to his voice, “is there a rat in here?”

Barry laughed. He looked up toward Hartley’s side of the room, moving just a bit out of the… _wait, were we just cuddling?_ Barry realized. “Uh…” Barry swallowed, _Cuddling?_ “The rat is Hartley’s. She doesn’t really come over here so it’s fine.”

Len sighed.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Barry said, his hand resuming rubbing circles into Len’s palm, “We’re going to get out of here.”

“I know. I promised I would get you to Central City and I will,” Len said. The man pulled away from Barry’s arms then and gently pushed Barry’s shoulder until Barry was lying down on the cot. Len slowly pulled himself over him.

Len had that look in his eye, the intense gaze that said Barry was the only thing in his focus.  His knee slid up between Barry's thighs and his hands supported his body over Barry's.  “We play nice for a week, we get everyone prepared to leave and we’ll all strike at once when you, Mark and… _Shawna_ have your powers.”

Barry lifted his leg up and wrapped it around Len’s side in a gesture that still felt unfamiliar. Len’s body rested in the space between Barry’s legs as the man looked up at Barry in deep thought. “I can play nice to DeVoe for a week,” Barry told him.

Len tugged on the bottom of Barry’s shirt and Barry lifted his arms up so Len could pull it off. _“Fuck,”_ Len yelled, pissed.

“What?” Barry sat up with worry. He followed Len’s gaze and then stared at his left arm. It was where the sedative had been injected; Barry’s wrist was covered in six, dark looking needle marks and the entire length of his forearm was covered in long bruises down his veins. “Oh, that looks painful,” Barry said softly.

“You can’t feel it?” Len’s eyes flashed with anger.

“I… I’m really numb. Kind of everywhere.”

Len’s hands clenched by Barry’s sides and his eyes screwed shut as he struggled to control himself. Barry brushed his fingers along Len’s forehead and eventually Len’s body eased of tension. “I can’t…” Len told Barry, his voice low and tired, “I can’t say for sure I won’t kill DeVoe if I get my hands on him.”

Those were words Barry didn’t want to hear. “No,” Barry said simply.

“He’s threatened my _sister,_ and he’s hurt _you-”_

“I won’t let you cross that line, Len,” Barry’s conviction came out clearly in his words. Before he could really stop himself, he added, “I can’t be with you if you become a killer again.”

Len dropped his head to Barry’s chest and wrapped his arms around Barry’s stomach in a hug. He didn’t say anything, just gripped Barry close to him.

Barry kept running his hands down the rough, inch long brown mess of Len’s hair, a comforting gesture just as much for Barry’s benefit as Len’s. They stayed that way until the guards opened the door and Len had to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another long chapter but I had a lot to get through. DeVoe established as evil and stuff, and Barry and Len being even more important to each other than they realized. Also I have really not been doing much lately besides writing, which I guess is to the benefit of people enjoying this but is a little detrimental to my life and I should probably get on that.
> 
> I don't know why I like the idea of everyone thinking Barry's name is "Flash"; maybe just because Flash is definitely a cooler name than "Bartholomew" and that just tickles me. I kind of adore silly or strange names. 
> 
> Words.


	14. The Cult - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: violence

150 Miles from Central City

Codependency not the right word. Barry was reasonably sure it was more related to enabling addiction than anything else, but the fact that Barry spent the entire week gritting his teeth and surviving to meet Len and have all his anxieties melt away just made him wonder. Was this what everyone was feeling? Why Shawna and Mark were so close so quickly, or why Barry hardly came across anyone in the town during his week-long imprisonment that was single?

Honestly, single-ness was a dying concept. Lisa had been playing nice all week with some young, dark haired guard (who didn’t know any better and Barry kind of felt bad for) just so she wouldn’t seem suspicious. Barry did feel for Hartley the more he got a sense for the world around them.

Hartley was out working on the solar panels which, at the precise moment they were all waiting for in two hours, would turn the power on. Distraction one. Or part one, of the complicated plan that was mostly Len’s idea, though a lot of credit could be given to Hartley, Lisa, and Barry.

The _unofficial_ part two, or part one b, was called ‘B _arry and Len get some personal time just in case_ ’.

“You look good right now,” Len said because his index and middle finger were currently in Barry’s mouth.

Barry glared at him, even with his tongue wrapped around Len’s fingers. Barry’s hands were digging into Len’s thighs as he braced himself over the man’s legs, Barry leaning forward just to suck on Len’s fingers in as sexy a way as Barry could manage it. Which he wasn’t exactly confident in.

Barry had stolen a jar of olive oil from the kitchens. Did it count as stealing if he was stealing from evil people? They had, in all fairness, completely stripped down the RV (Mick had found it propped up with the rest of the makeshift fence-car-thing this town had going on) and taken everything. Even the… well… the lubricant. So when Barry felt his powers slowly starting to buzz back into his system he tested it out by stealing olive oil from the kitchen.

Len had been very impressed.

It was a very temporary solution; olive oil wasn’t the safest product for intercourse, was not at all something that would wash out easily, and if they actually had a condom then the olive oil plus latex would end up making a mess. But they didn’t have a condom.

Barry was still guarded nearly one-hundred percent of the time, though he was allowed to use the bathroom on his own which had been when he’d participated in his first act of thievery so Len was brought to his room everyday sometime after Barry's morning story-time with DeVoe.  So when Len was brought today, like Len was every day, (because DeVoe seemed to think he was pimping Len out to Barry or something), Barry had blurted out in the least sexy-way possible that he really needed to know Len’s sexual history before they had sex without a condom _again._

Len… pushed Barry down on the cot and stuck his fingers in Barry’s mouth in response to that.

Barry wasn’t exactly _complaining,_ not when Len had his other hand on Barry’s hip and was grinding his jeans up against Barry. _Fuck_ , Len was hot. Len kept getting _scruffier_ ; dark unshaven beard shadow on his face, mangled long brown hair growing in in a mess of loose curls, with a magnetic self assurance the longer they stayed alive. And Barry had had Len’s cock in his mouth every single day at this point which was a bit weird and unfamiliar because.... yeah, Barry used to go crazy over his college girlfriend’s breasts when they’d been dating so perhaps it was to be expected for him to get a fixation, but it was a… it was… not breasts. _I have to get over this ‘thing’,_ Barry thought to himself.

Len slowly slid his fingers out of Barry’s mouth. The man tapped the wet fingers against Barry’s chin which was just-

“What are you doing,” Barry asked.

Len slid the same hand down along Barry’s bare chest and shrugged. The man lowered his hips slowly and slid a knee up between Barry’s thighs controlling the pressure as he rubbed slowly through Barry’s running leggings. “Distracting you,” Len said finally, with an annoyingly casual tone.

“I’m not kidding about the sexual history,” Barry insisted even when Len’s knee felt really damn good right where it was, rubbing circles into Barry’s crotch in the most intense way. The lightning of Barry’s speed was still difficult to reach, but it came just a little bit to the tips of his fingers and toes. Barry could almost feel it.

Barry wanted to do the vibrating thing with his mouth again. He had been trying to do it all week which might have something why he’d been so determined to suck Len off everytime the man came by but today was the closest he’d ever felt to his powers.  They had other things they were going to do though, and the idea of getting a mouthful of olive oil was not pleasant.

Barry still wasn’t one-hundred percent; he could feel that his powers hadn’t quite returned to him. He’d been able to speed into the kitchen and out but he had been running as slow as the first time he'd ever used his speed. At least his body had healed.

Also today was the day of the escape, and even though Barry was going to be watching Len’s back like a _hawk_ (because Barry was not going to go through the fear of Len dying again), it still… the idea that they were going to be escaping from the compound in a few hours made this time feel special. Hence the olive oil; even though blow jobs were grand, beautiful, and an incredible turn-on _plus_ Barry could probably write sonnets about how Len’s fingers could jerk him off in just the absolute most _infuriating_ way- today they could switch it up. Olive oil. Barry was a genius.

“I’m clean, I’ve been tested,” Len assured. His two fingers dipped down to the elastic of Barry’s leggings and pulled.

“Have you ever had unprotected sex?” Barry asked.

Len’s knee was suddenly replaced with the man’s hand sliding under Barry’s leggings and boxers to grip him tightly. “Besides _this?”_ Len muttered, leaning upward to say into Barry’s ear, _“No._ You’re very special.”

“Well… desperate…” Len’s other hand pulled Barry’s leggings down to the top of his thighs so Barry’s cock was easier for Len to grip in his hands. Barry drew in a sharp breath and continued, “desperate times and desperate measures. I haven’t ah…” _I love Len’s hands. I love his hands. I love his fingers, holy-_ “ever before either. How many, um…”

Len paused and looked at Barry with his eyebrow raised in annoyance. “I don’t know how many sexual partners I’ve had. Not a ridiculous amount, not a small one either. This is the absolute worst, I hope you know that.”

“I need to know,” Barry defended.

“Which I understand. But I hate the timing. I want to fuck you and I don’t want to be thinking about other people.” Len was frowning but his fingers didn’t stop stroking, “We’re both old enough to have had multiple partners, neither of us has an STD and no one is going to be getting _pregnant_ so just ask the questions, get it over with, because I’d really like to go back to making you feel _good.”_ Len’s hand stilled, holding Barry’s cock and not moving and that wasn’t really fair.

“I just… one more question?” Barry asked apologetically.

Len nodded. The man wasn’t actively avoiding the questions, he just seemed bored with them. Maybe jealous.

“You ever… not that I don’t like it. You seem just like an ‘alpha male’ type, I don’t know. Have you?” Barry’s skin turned red while he asked.

Len tilted his head. “I have no idea what you’re asking, Barry.”

“Have you ever…” Barry didn’t want to finish the sentence at all but curiosity kept him going. He could definitely ask this. Len was his _boyfriend,_ Barry could ask him. It was going to come up eventually. He steeled himself and then asked hesitantly, “Have you _been_ ah… fucked?”

Len smirked.

Barry glared at him in return and didn’t move.

“Yes,” Len teased. He slowly started to rub his thumb against the glands at the head of Barry’s cock while his other hand reached for the olive oil.

 _Fuck, fuck that is nice._ “…and?” Barry pressed when Len was obviously not forthcoming with anything else.

“Tried it. Not my cup of tea. However if that is something you want to do I can arrange it,” Len said as he dripped olive oil over his hand and then slowly began to rub it along Barry’s shaft.

“Stop talking like this is a contract,” Barry said, sighing, “I just…” He felt open and exposed like this, sitting over Len as Len's focus was solely on him.

“I’m not a selfish lover, Barry. You can ask me for things,” Len told him.

Barry moved his hands to Len’s shoulders, still sitting on his knees with Len in between his legs. “Okay, well then get started with your fingers because we don’t have too much time before the plan starts.” Len smirked and moved his hand to comply but Barry grabbed Len’s wrist to stop him for a moment. “This time you’ll _pull out_ ,” Barry told him seriously.

Len had the self-preservation skills to at least look apologetic. “Of course,” he said. Barry let go of Len’s wrist and let the man’s hand brush past his groin, slicked up finger rubbing oil slowly around his entrance before it pressed in.

“Um…” Barry’s mind moved to their conversation earlier to relax himself, but he caught on something else and suddenly found himself thinking about, “is there ah… a rough estimate for your sexual partners?”

“No,” Len said, sounding like he did have one but he wasn't going to share it. Barry actually _didn’t_ want to know. He just kind of did in some morbid way. The idea wasn’t a pleasant one.

“You’re my fourth,” Barry admitted. Len only acknowledged that with a slight tilt of his head. “Not a one-night stand sort of person, I assume?” Len’s finger slipped out and he was pouring more of the oil onto his hands before pushing two fingers now into Barry. _Fuck._

“No. Were… were you?”

“I had a phase in my twenties,” Len said nonchalantly.

“You know… uh,” Barry rocked his hips back into Len’s hand, “I’m only twenty-five.”

Len said curled his fingers into Barry. “Thirty-six.”

“Oh,” Barry tried to look at Len but then Len’s fingers were hitting that _sweet spot_ and Barry couldn’t focus for a long moment. He moaned; Len pressed his fingers into him rougher and then eased around the muscles before sliding out, getting more oil on his fingers, and then sliding three in. _“Ehm…_ eleven years.”

“That an issue for you?”

“No,” Barry said immediately. “It’s not for you?”

Len’s fingers curled and pushed inside Barry wickedly in response. “Yep,” Len said as Barry gasped. Len sat up, his other hand grabbing the back of Barry’s neck to hold him steady as he slid his fingers just a bit out and then straight back, hitting Barry’s prostate with a vengeance. “It’s a terrible problem.” Barry grabbed Len’s shoulder’s tightly, his fingers digging into Len’s skin. “I’m afraid,” Len said, “you’re too young for me. I’m going to have to end this.”

And Len pulled his fingers out and just _stopped_ moving. The other man’s face was practically glowing with amusement as Barry gasped and rocked his hips backward into fingers that weren’t there.

“You are such a-” Barry started to say but then Len’s hand was dropping to Len’s jeans and Barry couldn’t help but follow. The view of Len’s slicked up fingers tugging at Len’s own belt.... slowly loosening the hold and then sliding the belt through the loop. Len zipped down slowly, tauntingly, the bulge in his dark boxers being revealed centimeter by centimeter and Barry was _never_ going to get over what a turn on that was.

Len was moving slowly on purpose but he eventually slipped the jeans down to his thighs and then curled up enough to pull them off and deposit them to the end of the cot with a short kick. “I can’t believe how into that you get,” Len commented.

Barry’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I- I _don’t-”_

“If you try to apologize for that…”Len said and then stopped. Apparently he couldn’t quite think of a threat that would work, so Len just shrugged went with, “I’ll turn you into an icicle.”

“That would suck, trying to have sex with an icicle,” Barry joked. He grabbed Len’s shoulder and then slowly moved off of Len’s legs- oh god, he could feel the oil trickling down to his knee that was not a comfortable sensation.

Len seemed to just understand what Barry was doing. He flipped over easily until Len was on top, and pushed Barry’s legs to the side to kneel in between them. Len’s slicked up fingers grabbed the elastic of Barry’s leggings and he pulled them off with a harsh tug that actually made the cot skid a bit across the floor.

Barry took a moment after that to stare at the muscles on Len’s chest and wonder what it would be like if Len was really pissed. Like crazily angry. Insane angry. And horny, of course, also completely naked. Len should get completely naked. Now.

“Take that off,” Barry ordered.

Len raised an eyebrow at the tone but complied, thumbs slipping under the top of his boxers and pulling the material slowly over the ghost of brown hairs along his groin and then tossed the last bit of clothing off quickly.

Barry was a human being; a superhuman but red-blooded, horny human being who was never, ever going to get used to the sight of a hot person naked. There was nothing in the world more exciting than seeing Len half hard and lying between Barry’s legs.

Len spread the olive oil over his fingers again and then slipped a hand over his own cock. He reached up for Barry’s neck and Barry slipped his hands over Len’s hair, trailed by the man’s ears, and then to the sides of his face before he pulled him in for a kiss. Barry’s lips lingered only for a moment on Len’s before Barry pulled back, tilted his head and pressed their mouths together as hard as he could.

Len’s body was a bit hard to hold on to while Len was gasping and rocking back and forth. Barry knew Len was just as eager as him to move on and the pace Len was jerking himself off to was almost punishing.

 _God,_ it was hot. Barry’s skin was practically boiling with how _hot_ Len was, leaning over him and stroking that perfect cock while he kissed barely roughly, mouth opening and tongue sweeping over Barry’s teeth. Barry shivered and gripped Len’s face tighter, responding to Len’s tongue with enthusiasm. Len moaned in Barry’s arms and Barry kissed even deeper into him, wanting to feel the taste of Len in his mouth for hours after. He wanted Len to get _in_ him; wanted that easy confidence, wanted to be assured that things were going to be alright later because _they_ were something too important to end.

Len eventually started pulling his face away, a slow process because Barry couldn’t help but chase after him, kissing him harder the more Len pulled back. Len had to slide his mouth over to Barry’s ear, _An acceptable replacement,_ lips brushing Barry’s neck and teeth tugging gently at the earlobe until Barry moaned.

“Ready?” Barry said, gasping and running his hands down Len’s back.

“Wasn’t difficult with you looking like that,” Len said smugly. He moved his face to kiss down to Barry’s clavicle then over his chest and shoulder. Barry ran his hand through Len’s short hair again; briefly Barry wondered what it would feel like when Barry finally was able to give Len a buzzcut.

Then Len’s fingers were slipping down under his balls again, wet and dropping with the oil as he prodded three fingers back where they’d been a few minutes before. Barry moaned, let his body relax, and slid himself down onto those fingers. Len probed through the muscles just enough for Len to be satisfied Barry was loose enough, and then the fingers were gone and Len grabbed Barry’s knee and moved it up to his shoulder.

Barry could sit up only just a bit on his elbows, reclining back onto the cot with his eyes staring at Len’s amazing, flushed, long cock which Barry was sure he was a little too fascinated by.

Barry had gotten to the point where he’d fantasized about taking samples of the sweat and liquids, looking at them under a microscope and a blacklight, measuring every little dip and curve from the head to the balls, even getting the proper mathematical formula for the way that it curved up to the side and… and it was safe to say Barry was getting obsessed.

Hard not to, when Len slowly eased his cock forward and it felt _so good_ from the very second it was inside him. God, this was how it should feel like. Properly prepped, properly relaxed, and entirely confident in Len’s expert abilities to slick right in and-

 _Fuck,_ that was it. Len had the angle in just a moment.

Barry’s hands scrambled at the back of Len’s neck, awkward and gripping for purchase. Len was slowly, tauntingly pulling his hips away and _out._ A low, needy moan came out of Barry’s lips as his leg tensed over Len’s shoulder.

Then Len was pushing back inside of him, spreading him open to a steady pace and Barry’s back arched upward. His hands braced on the cot slipped when Len’s hips started thrusting at such an easy, comfortable pace. Barry rocked his hips forward in time to what Len was setting, content at the beginning to enjoy the sweet sensation of being full, coveted, having every inch of his body entirely attuned to the feeling of Len over him.

But then it was feeling _great,_ and it was _slow.“_ C’mon,” Barry mumbled, hands still on Len’s neck. His fingers were feeling weird- weak, Len’s body seemed impossible to grab and- oh yeah, the vibrating. His shaking fingers would jump with every push, every moment Len hit up against his  prostate and his mind would go blank for an instant.

There was something about vibrating Barry had been trying to tell himself earlier but right now coherent thought was failing him.

Because Len wasn’t _fast_ enough, _nothing_ was fast enough, Barry needed to be fucked so hard he couldn’t breathe- he wanted Len to stop taking his damn time with it and just drill into him with as much force as he could but it was getting impossible for Barry to explain that. His whole body was filling up with tingling heat, Len was groaning over him, the man’s hand gripping tightly into Barry’s leg as he held him just right for that angle that send shockwaves from Barry’s lower stomach to his brain every time Len moved.

If Barry didn’t get a fucking handle on himself there would be literal shockwaves.

“I’-” Barry’s hands kept slipping and he scrambled for a better hold on Len’s body but his fingers and toes just stopped existing on a normally-functioning-speed plane. “I… can’t…” God Len felt _good,_ Len’s hipbone slammed into Barry’s thigh with each thrust and it was brilliant. So brilliant. Barry could conceivably get murdered right now and he probably wouldn’t care.

Except his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and fuck was that okay? Was it freaking Len out? It was pretty impossible to control- every slip of Len’s cock in him, every little push into the tight ring of muscle and burst of energy from Len fucking him open would send wordless shocks into Barry’s brain and that energy filled him up to bursting. _“Fuck,_ Len,” Barry groaned.

He finally dropped his hands, grabbing the cot instead in hopes it would absorb some of the vibrating. Grabbing the cot was last coherent thought before Barry was gripping Len’s side tight with his other leg and then thrusting himself forward.  He wasn't fast enough to spark electricity but fast enough that the burst of heat and energy, the feel of Len deep inside him, was almost continuous and the slick slide of their bodies against each other faded into background noise.

He could sense that the movements he was making were fast- he was thrusting his hips back into Len enough his thighs were a blur, but at the same time Barry’s mind was racing and each movement felt like it lasted an eternity.

And it was fucking amazing, and Len was solid and unflinching even when Barry felt like he was losing control. It took hardly any time at all, yet Barry experienced each shockwave of pleasure slowly enough his _thoughts_ were blurring.

He grabbed himself when he felt the heat was getting rather unbearable and it wasn’t too long before Barry’s head slammed back onto the cot and his whole mind went blank. His body tensed, grabbing for Len, for an eternity of seconds where he couldn’t exactly _reason_ through anything.

Len’s mouth was on his when Barry’s senses started to work, just a bit, and Barry kissed Len sloppily and lazily against the desperate and needy force of Len’s lips. Len was stroking himself, and Barry raised his shaking hands to grip Len’s cock tightly in his own hand where it hung over Barry’s stomach. Barry’s wrist was fast, fingers still shaking, and Len came with a shudder and moan in Barry's mouth.

Len pretty much just collapsed on Barry, but it felt nice. Barry’s languid but now-controllable arms wrapped around the man’s shoulders and held him tightly.

Barry felt like he could sleep a thousand years and also run faster than light. It was _so_ good. Fuck, why did they even wear clothes? Why did they even leave their bed, with its draped over curtains and cozy mattress, and the drawers in the side of the walls with everything they needed. Barry and his _boyfriend_ could have just been buried in their little world, fucking and kissing and sleeping until they finally got to Central City- passing the time making Barry feel like _this._

Len shifted a bit, his head moving to the side so the man’s nose could press into the side of Barry’s neck. Len took a deep, deep breath in and let it out with a sigh that Barry could feel in Len’s shoulders.

Barry banished every thought of their impeding escape by pulling Len tighter against his chest.

* * *

 

"Where is _Lisa?"_ Len yelled loudly, the noise sounding far away even though he was directly next to Barry. It was the gunshots ringing around them, loud enough to make Barry and the others flinch when they'd first heard them- now bullets soared over their heads and their ears were almost used to it. L

isa hadn’t done her bit;,which was setting the gardening toolshed on fire, and Shawna and Mick hadn’t come back from freeing Mark Mardon from his cell which was _ridiculous_ because Shawna could _teleport through the cell door_ so it wasn’t like they had to find a key or break the thing down and-

And the guards which should have been focused keeping the garden from burning were instead joining the forces shooting at Len, Hartley, and Barry. Even Len’s coldgun wasn’t proving too helpful, not when the man couldn’t look up from his position, crouched behind a turned over truck, without worrying about being shot. Hartley had found all the weaponry, even Barry’s uniform which had been stored along with them, which was really great and making Barry really _like_ Hartley except that-

Hartley wasn’t being _clear._ “Haven’t you ever put on a car tire before?!” Hartley yelled above the noise, hands gesturing wildly even behind the truck.

Barry was the only one fast enough to fix the RV, which had been stripped of everything including tires, and although putting gas and oil in it was easy (Mick had been in charge f bringing the gas and oil which Barry had understandably been worried over but had turned out fine) the action of _putting on the tires_ was not at _all_ self explanatory. Barry ran at superspeed, tried to screw them up with the tire iron in his hands, but when he’d run back and ducked right under the overturned truck beside Len it didn’t look right. They knew they couldn’t get out of the encampment without a car of some sort to protect them from the cold but _shit_ they hadn’t considered the fact Barry didn’t know how to put on a tire.

“I lived in Central City my whole life!” Barry defended, “I took public transport!”

“It’s so obvious!” Hartley snapped at him, waving the long weapon (it looked like a flute and Barry hadn’t had time to ask Hartley about it) in his hands in Barry’s face. “For damn- for fucks sake- you- is there a manual in the glove department? We can explain-”

Barry didn’t waste time letting Hartley finish his sentence. He flashed forward, throwing open the door of the RV and (they were going to need duct tape, there were a few bullet holes in the wall) and surged to the glove compartment. There. Tax forms? A map with coffee stains. Worn out insurance book, and crammed into the bottom was a car manual.

Barry read it six times in the span of forty seconds. He gripped the tire iron in his hands.

Alright. Barry could do this now. The RV was already propped up on bricks, all he needed to do was align the tire to the wheel bolts, put on the lug nuts, tighten the nuts with the tire iron in a circle, do that to all the tires, then remove the bricks, tighten them again, and replace the hubcap.

Cool. He knew _cars_ now.

Barry shot out of the RV in a bolt of lightning, moving faster than any of the bullets around him as he pulled the tires on, going one at a time over each one just as it said in the manual. The velocity of his force made it easy to knock the bricks from the underside of the car. A final tightening and- there. Barry paused for a moment to survey his handiwork before he remembered people were shooting at him.

“Shit!” He yelled, and speeded to Len’s cover under the overturned truck. His arm brushed against Len’s side as he sat down and Barry felt a bit comforted by the touch. Barry’s body was still… buzzing from two hours ago. Though now was the worst time to dwell on that.

“She must not have been able to get away from the compound,” Barry yelled, because yelling was the only way to make his voice heard over the noise of guns firing and people cursing.

Len looked up out of the cover for a moment, just quick enough to fire a long line of ice at the people shooting at them. Barry grabbed Len’s parka and slammed the man back down without thinking about it.

Hartley grabbed at the communicator in his own right ear for a moment. “Shawna and Mick have Mark! She’s going to bring the both of them over here,” he deferred instantly to Len.

“Teleport them to the car. I want Mick to start the engine and then get his ass out here and hold off these _fucking_ idiots,” Len ordered. He raised the gun up in the air, fired a shot slightly over the truck which was useless at that angle except to startle the guards shooting at them. “Mark makes it _fog!”_

Hartley frowned. “Can he do that?”

“I don’t give a shit if he can or not, he is going to!” Len turned his head like he was going to try and look over the truck but Barry grabbed him again. Barry wasn’t even sure why he was doing that, just an instinct. “You can drive?” Len asked Hartley. Lisa driving had been the plan, which obviously changed.

“Yes,” Hartley nodded.

“You drive us the fuck out of here. When Mick and Mark are in the care just _go._ And tell Shawna it’s up to her to grab supplies-” Len looked at Barry, “ _Find Lisa_ ,” Len snapped angrily with clear fear in his eyes. Barry’s job was supposed to be to steal from the kitchen, try and find some of their medical supplies that had been taken, but unfortunately times had changed. They were just going to have to run out of here with whatever Shawna managed to carry.

“I promise I will get her back safe,” Barry said seriously, looking into Len’s eyes.

“Can you two make kissy eyes at each other when we’re _not_ being shot at and I can enjoy it?!” Hartley snapped.

Barry speeded forward, pressed his mouth roughly and awkwardly against Len’s, and then he was racing away.

His costume felt _brilliant_ against his skin, it moved along with his movements, it didn’t chafe or burn against his skin as he ran, and plus it smelled like someone had actually washed it with laundry detergent and that was amazing.

He could see the guards who were crouched behind the municipal building, their guns firing at the truck Len and Hartley were ducking under- he ran by the while knocking one of the guards to the ground as he did just because he could. Barry speeded onward, he could see people dressed in gardening clothes running for cover far away and his stomach lurched.

Barry just wanted to get away, he didn’t want to put these people in more danger.

The violent reaction by DeVoe’s men was to be expected, however, especially when they realized the Rogues were planning on taking the Weather Wizard with them.

It took an instant before Barry was throwing open one of the strip mall store doors and running inside. He skidded to a halt, his heels sliding on the floor for a few feet as his body absorbed the abrupt impact of stopping his motion. “Lisa!” Barry yelled. And he was…

…in a costume shop?

Racks of clothing circled around him in a pile, a confusing mix of all sorts of things from suits and dresses to sports gear. Barry stepped through the room carefully and then saw a large stack of books- oh, this was the storage room for all of the supplies from the mall.

He sped away instantly, the lighting snapping at his toes, and slammed open the door of the next room, running inside and yelling “Lisa!” A bunch of young kids stared at him in horror and fear, two women staring at Barry with knives in their hands and-

“I’m so sorry!” Barry raised his hands in a sign of peace. “So sorry! I’m not going to hurt you, I’m just looking for a woman!” He stepped back toward the door, looking at the kids. There were only about nine of them, all chubby cheeked and well fed. Barry had to give it to DeVoe, that psychopath, the man had known how to feed a large group of people in an apocalypse.

It sucked that the plan didn’t involve getting rid of DeVoe at all.They were going to be leaving the people without any protection.  That was why Barry had insisted on Hartley fixing the generator- Barry would do whatever he could do to help before he had to abandon these people to the apocalypse.

One of the woman opened her mouth to speak but the other woman yelled at her to shut up. Barry tried to look friendly, non-threatening, and then he remembered the tire iron was still in his hands and that didn’t look good.

He shoved the tire iron behind his back, hiding it and tried to seem friendly.

“We only want to leave,” Barry said carefully to the woman who had attempted to talk. “I just want my boyfriend’s sister and we are out of here.”

“No!” The not-so-friendly woman said angrily, “You’re taking the freak who makes it warm!”

“It’s about to be spring anyway,” Barry argued, “and no one deserves to be held prisoner like an air conditioner!”

The not-so-friendly woman glared but the friendly woman stepped forward, giving a quick glance to the children around her. “Please,” the woman said, “just leave us alone. We are all alive because of DeVoe.”

“Where is-”

“The woman is in the Starbucks, DeVoe always takes her out there to have dinner with him,” the friendly woman said.

“Thanks!” Barry yelled, and he was already at the door, speeding across the small parking lot and throwing open the doors of the Starbucks. He ran inside and shouted, “Lisa!” before he realized that it probably wasn’t the best idea to announce himself. Oliver Queen would probably be rolling over in his grave or if he was alive, whatever the living equivalent of rolling over in a grave was.

“Hi,” Chuck the guard, who Barry hated so, so much, was sitting in one of the Starbuck booths, holding Lisa tightly in his lap with a gun pressed against Lisa’s ear.

Lisa was in a long, silky black gown, her hair parted and tightly curled back into several braids with her light-brown roots making some curly halo around her head and Lisa looked immensely uncomfortable. The General was standing beside them, her gun trained on Barry now that Barry was standing still in the center of the room.

“See?” Lisa said. Chuck shook her with his hand and she resisted but couldn’t pull herself out of the man’s grip. _“Flash_ is here, you all are _damned_ idiots if you think you can stop us from leaving.”

“I knew DeVoe was getting to be tough to handle,” the General said suddenly, “he’s such a pompous little freak. Always running his mouth and acting like a king but more content to listen to ideas and sit back drinking fucking coffee.” The hand that wasn’t holding a gun slipped down to her side and she pulled out… another gun. The General aimed the second gun at Barry and then turned her arm to aim the first at Lisa. “He’s weak and stupid. He’d rather play with people than get anything done.”

Barry wasn’t exactly sure what had sparked the former CIA-woman into a monologue revealing her evil plan but he’d long ago decided he just had one of those _faces_ that bad guys liked to talk to. Like Leonard Snart. Len was big into the posturing and playing the super villain back when… well, they’d been superhero vs. supervillain and not… uh… boyfriends.

“So what? You’re taking credit for the compound now?” Barry pressed. He took an experimental step forward but then Chuck the guard’s arm slipped over Lisa’s neck in a chokehold and Lisa let out a frighteningly scared noise. Lisa struggled, her hands grabbed the muscular guard’s arm but she couldn’t move it.

“Now? This whole damn _place_ is my idea,” the General growled, “DeVoe is a cocky asshole lawyer who thinks he’s clever when he goes along with my ideas. And it was fine for awhile, all DeVoe needed was some violence to keep him entertained and pretty women to look at. Then the fucker gets a hold of _freaks_ and suddenly he fancies himself a real dictator.”

“All we want to do is go,” Barry told her. He gripped the tire iron tighter in his hands.

“Here’s the fucking thing, _Bart,”_ the General said angrily, “I am _happy_ to let you and _all_ your little friends go and you can have some gay orgies with Hartley in your damn car too, I don’t give a fuck what you do. I don’t give a _damn_ about you, Flash, and DeVoe can kiss my ass if he thinks I want to hold you. _I_ knew it was a bad thing to bring you here. But,” the General’s eyes flashed with anger, “leave Mardon.”

“You want me to leave Weather Wizard here to be your personal temperature controller,” Barry said angrily, “you want to _use_ him.”

“Weather what- Look,” the General’s hands never wavered or flinched, she held the guns with practiced, strong grace and her entire stance gave off an air of strength, _“kid,_ Mardon is a criminal. I know all about him and that brother of his. You’re a vigilante so I’m sure you can see the logic in our little set up.”

“Locking someone up indefinitely just because they’re a metahuman,” Barry said stiffly. _That sounds uncomfortably familiar._

“Mardon’s situation is all up to him. He hasn’t bothered resisting us in weeks, he knows what he’s supposed to do and he does it,” the General said as if what she was saying sounded reasonable, “and Mardon serves our community. You take Mardon away and you’re taking everyone here’s security.”

“No one deserves to be your… slave,” Barry snapped. “That’s all you’re doing here, you and DeVoe too. You just lock people up and set them to work and act like you’re _helping_ them when in reality you’re killing them just slower than the monsters outside. Mardon isn’t the only one who is a prisoner.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” the General said.

“Dramatic?!” Barry stepped forward, but the General’s finger moved on the trigger and there was a painfully loud ringing noise as the General shot her gun straight into the air. She lowered the weapon slowly back to Lisa. Barry stood still but kept talking, “You took away everyone’s free will. You kill any men who aren’t strong enough and you have twelve year old girls carrying weapons for you. This is a hell-hole, not a paradise.”

“You want Miss Snart? Bring me Mardon. Or, I _kill_ Miss Snart and you run off hoping and praying that no one else in your group dies before you get out of here.” The General tilted her head and smirked. “One,” she said stiffly.

“That’s my choice? Give you Mark Mardon as your fucking weather machine or Lisa dies?” Barry’s hands tightened on the tire iron, his stomach tightening with indecision. He couldn’t let Lisa die. He didn’t _want_ to give Mark to this _killer_ in front of him.

“I don’t think you’re boyfriend will like it if you let his sister die,” the General told him calmly, _“two.”_

It was Lisa who made the choice. 

Lisa kicked forward and Chuck grabbed her tighter. Then Lisa bit down hard on the guard’s forearm hard enough to draw blood- Chuck howled and Lisa’s elbow slammed down between the man’s legs.

The General turned quickly, her fingers started to pull back the trigger of her gun.

Not thinking, Barry flashed forward with the lightning bursting from his skin. _Save Lisa_ , was his thought as he swung the tire iron hard at the General. The weapon slammed into the woman’s hand, knocking it back, and the wide, baseball swing of an arc Barry swung at had him continuing, the heavy metal cracked into the General’s skull.

The woman’s body was flung backward into the wall. Her skull was concave; her wrist flopping uselessly at her side. The General’s lifeless form slumped against a chair, seemingly hovering in a standing position for a moment until her legs fell backward and her torso bent forward and she collapsed on the ground with the bloody hole in her head pointing straight at Barry.

She was dead.

The General was dead and Barry was holding the murder weapon in his hands.

His hands.  The murder weapon was in his hands because Barry was the one who had swung it forward and killed her, he killed her with his speed and with the murder weapon in his hand. Murder weapon. There was blood spatter on Barry’s uniform and his face indicating the exact angle with which the killing blow had been. He knew this type of blood spatter pattern. He’d seen it at work- the blood spatter of a brutal hit to the head from a fast speed, like a person struck with a motorcycle or hit and run.

Barry was the one who had killed her which was why the bloodspatter was on his face and the murder weapon in his hands-

Except the tire iron clattered to the floor because Barry suddenly couldn’t hold onto it anymore. He heard Lisa’s voice somewhere beyond his pulse pounding in his ears. Her hand was on his shoulder, shaking him, and somewhere in the back of Barry’s mind he could see Chuck convulsing on the ground holding his eyes while Lisa was shaking his shoulder.

It was a very long time before Barry could understand what Lisa was saying. He swooped her up then, running outside of the Starbucks with heavy falling feet and a growing horror in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't participate in unsafe sex, kids.


	15. 145 Miles From Central City

145 Miles From Central City

“We have a shitty music player,” Len yelled at the top of his lungs, throwing a vinyl copy of a Mariah Carey's  _All I Want For Christmas is You_ at Shawna’s head, “and no fucking food!”

Shawna was crouching on the floor by the door with her arms wrapped protectingly over Mark’s head, pulling Mark Mardon’s nose comfortingly against her breasts which she’d been doing literally the entire two hour drive away from the compound. Lisa was still in the front of the car, still driving, still in her bloody nightgown… maybe it was a comfort thing.

Lisa wouldn’t move; she wouldn’t stop driving even when Len had offered to take over for her. _“Just let me drive, Lenny,”_ Lisa had said with exasperation, _“We have to find a place to loot so let me drive.”_

Barry sat on the ground, back braced against the futon, watching Len flip out at Shawna with hardly any expression on his face. Barry’d sped changed into a t shirt and jeans (the only thing the people in the compound had left in the RV were the clothes and books) and washed the blood off his face. It was all gone but Barry was still holding a damp cloth against his face, wiping and wiping over his cheeks, nose, forehead… not wanting to bring his hands down.

 _“Seriously,_ Shawna!” Hartley was pretty much hiding behind Len’s back, but he was practically shaking with equal anger.

“The booze is gone too,” Mick said as he opened another empty cabinet in the RV. Mick shook his head quietly and mumbled to Barry, “They took my lighters _and_ the booze.”

“Sorry,” Barry replied automatically.

Shawna and Mark Mardon were still cowering by the door. “Your job was to get us supplies!” Len yelled angrily. Len grabbed a book from the table, the textbook on transmutation, and threw that at the couple huddled by the door. It hit Mark Mardon’s leg uselessly and fell to the ground. “What the fuck are we going to do with no goddamn supplies?! How do you expect us to last out here?!”

“Mark _needs_ the music player! He has to control himself! At the compound they would beat him and-” Shawna tried to defend.

“Mardon!” Len snapped at the man, “Stop having your _girlfriend_ defend yourself and _look the fuck at me_. If you don’t, I swear to _god,_ I have met with cannibals before and I will happily drive back to their farm to ask for recipes!”

Barry couldn’t really work up the strength to sit up and hold Len back. He thought about it, imagined wrapping his arms around Len’s waist and asking the man to calm down, but even the thought of doing something non-passive was exhausting. He glanced up toward Lisa, only able to see the back of her head.

Then he noticed Lisa’s eyes looking at him through the rear-view mirror. Lisa turned her head just a bit to look at Barry and give him a sad smile. She went back to the road. _Driving._ Driving, yard by yard, inch by inch over ice and snow because it was as impossible for Lisa to imagine stopping as it was for Barry to imagine moving.

Mick Rory had killed one of the cannibals and Lisa had killed the meta-human cannibal. It hadn’t bothered Barry too much at the time actually. It had seemed reasonable. Oliver Queen actually killed people all the time too.

The General was threatening Lisa. But Barry… he had these powers for a _reason;_ he could have found another way.

“I should have listened to Lisa and left you in the cold!” Len yelled at Shawna, “You can’t even grab a few measly cans of _beans!”_

“Do you _like_ this god-awful winter? Don’t you want him to be able to control it?” Shawna countered angrily, her stubborn eyes flashing and her grip tightening in Mark Mardon’s hair. It was strange how Mark wasn’t speaking, but then Barry remembered Shawna mentioning him being beaten and the man was gripping the sides of his stomach in pain.

If Barry had given Mark Mardon up to the General for Lisa than Barry wouldn’t be feeling this way. He wouldn’t know what it was like to kill someone.

 _Fuck you,_ Barry thought even though he knew it was irrational. It didn’t make sense to be angry at Mark Mardon but Barry _was._ The man had his own set of superpowers; Barry had even seen Mardon making a tsunami so why couldn’t Mardon have kept himself from getting caught in the first place?!

“Pull us over!” Len suddenly shouted. He moved up toward the front of the car, grabbing the sides to push himself forward. Hartley had still been grabbing Len’s coat and when Len turned abruptly Hartley lost his balance. He fell to the floor with a shout, head hitting Shawna’s knee when Hartley’s hands instantly went to his shoulder to protect the rat and not brace his fall.

Shawna kicked him. Hartley seethed.

“I’m not pulling us over, Lenny,” Lisa said slowly. Her eyes didn’t waver a bit on the road.

“Sis,” Len warned. He hovered by the front of the car, braced on the dash and the back of Lisa’s seat.

“I am not stopping this car until we see a damn gas station,” Lisa insisted, “now tell me if there are any towels in the bathroom.”

Leonard looked at her, confused.

Shawna seemed to sense the immediate danger had passed so she slowly stood up with her back on the door while keeping her hands on Mark’s shoulders. Carefully, Shawna supported Mark and walked him toward the back of the vehicle. Hartley hesitated for a moment, looking at Barry as if he expected Barry to do something other than sit and watch, and then stood up with a curse and helped Shawna carry Mark to the back of the car. The curtain was still up between the masterbed and the rest of the room, so Hartley shoved it to one side, wrapping the cloth in a knot so they could set Mark down and still see him.

“What’s up with his stomach?” Hartley asked Shawna.

“There are no towels in the bathroom,” Len was telling Lisa, “why do you need a towel?”

“Get me a sweatshirt or something. What about those blankets we had? They probably didn’t take our blankets right? If they didn’t take the clothes they wouldn’t take that,” Lisa guessed. Her eyes were still pinpointed on the road. With a shake of her hair, Lisa raised her hand to her head and felt the short blonde halo of tightly woven curls on her head. She made a disgusted face and tugged off the hair tie immediately.

“I’ll check,” Len grumbled, “but pull over I have to kick the baggage out.”

“I’m not pulling over,” Lisa insisted.

Shawna and Hartley were slowly peeling off Mark Mardon’s shirt. The man was sickly pale, the unkempt black beard on his face almost as scraggly and dark as the rest of him. He kind of looked like Jack Sparrow… if you squinted. Mark Mardon’s chest was covered in bruises and there was light yellow bruising along his left ribcage.

Len was opening the closet door, the tiny little locker-space shoved behind the shotgun seat. “Okay, we have blankets,” he said to Lisa.

“Tear a big piece out of one,” Lisa said.

Len glared at her. “Why?”

“Not your business!” Lisa said loudly, looking at the rear-view mirror to the back of the car, “They took all of our medical supplies. We’ll stop as soon as we find a station.”

Len glanced back at the three new members of the group and seemed to be having trouble containing his anger. The man’s hands were turning white shaking at his sides and he glared directly at Shawna. His gaze didn’t leave the teleporter even as he tore a sizeable chuck of blanket with his hunting knife. “Here,” Len said stiffly, handing the blanket to Lisa.

“Thanks,” Lisa set the blanket in her lap and didn’t look at anyone. Her eyes were fixed on the road, concentrating only on avoiding snowbanks, ice, and obstructing objects while trying to get their speed somewhere even _near_ ten miles an hour.

Len tore a long strip of the blanket with his knife and moved backward in the RV, grabbing random handholds as he went until he reached the futon where he could easily hand the cloth to Hartley. “Wrap his chest up,” Len ordered.

Hartley took it with a grateful nod although Shawna glared at Len as if the action was another insult.

Len sat on the futon with a sigh, his leg was touching Barry’s shoulder. Mick was looking under sink for whatever it was he had stored there. “Scarlet,” Len grumbled, “are you going to get up off the floor and sit on the couch like an adult?”

 _“Lenny,”_ Lisa warned from the driver's seat. “What?” Len snapped at her angrily, shoulders tensing and he sat up at the edge of his seat. “You want me to hand you some water now? We don’t have fucking any! You want food? We don’t _have_ any!”

“That is why I am driving us to a stop!” Lisa’s hands banged on the wheel.

“You want another _blanket?!”_

“I am on my _period,”_ Lisa shouted back, “and we don’t have any _tampons!_ _That is what the goddamn blanket is for_!”

Mick jumped up and hit his head on the sink with a loud smack. Hartley whistled in a low tone and Shawna stared at Len like she was expecting Len to explode any moment.

Len didn’t move for a long time and then slowly the tension eased out of him and he leaned back into the futon.

“We _good?”_ Lisa demanded from the front of the car.

Len waved his hand in an careless gesture. “We’re fine, keep driving and please don’t bleed on the seat.”

“That’s _why_ I asked for the goddamn blanket,” Lisa hissed under her breath. Barry raised his hands up to his forehead, rubbing his temples as if he had a headache. He felt Len’s hand brush against the back of his neck and Barry turned his head away from it.

“Can you talk?” Len said suddenly, looking at Mark Mardon.

It was weird to see Mardon looking so weak and helpless, Barry thought. There were long dark circles under his eyes and there was a deathly white pallor to his skin; Mardon’s arms looked weak from disuse and his entire body just seemed drained. This was the man who had made a tsunami so big Barry had to go _back in time_ to stop it.

“Yes,” Mark Mardon said through clenched teeth, “just didn’t feel like it.”

“How’re you feeling?” Len asked, annoyed.

Mark Mardon glared at Len for a very long moment. “Like I got beat on by a lot of different people,” he said stiffly, “but I’m not too bad.” Shawna reached out and took Mardon’s hand in her own, and he grabbed it tightly. “I started having nightmares a month ago, I would make monstrous storms and the only thing that calms me down is music.”

Mick Rory finally removed his head from the underside of the sink and was holding a cigarette lighter along with a glossy porn magazine and a small bag of Dunkin Donuts coffee beans. “Yes,” Mick Rory said triumphantly.

“Oh, nice,” Barry told Mick lazily, “I had coffee every morning this week. I’d probably get a headache without it.”

Mick looked a little peeved but then glanced at Len and back to Barry and suddenly gave Barry a grin. “You want some tomorrow?” Mick Rory asked.

“Yeah,” Barry decided. He felt enormously tired for a moment and pulled his knees up to his chin to rest his head on them.

“Alright,” Len was saying to Shawna and Mark Mardon, “and yet you couldn’t manage to bring a single thing of food?”

“You want to drive back to that hell hole and rob them?” Shawna said angrily, “Because I will do that. I’m _sorry,”_ her voice dripping with sarcasm, “I didn’t get any food. I was a little busy making sure Mark wasn’t going to kill us in his sleep.”

Len tapped Barry’s head with his finger. “This,” Len said to Barry, “is why I said we should just bring Hartley.”

“Thanks,” Hartley said pleasantly.

“Rude,” Shawna growled.

 _“Lenny,”_ Lisa said with a warning tone. She glanced back at her brother for only a moment before turning her eyes to the road again.

“Do we even know what road we’re on?” Len asked Lisa, annoyed. Barry could see confusion on Len’s face as he looked up at the other man. Barry reached out and set his hand on Len’s knee calmly. Len’s hand dropped to cover Barry’s with his own but nothing in Len’s demeanor changed to show he appreciated the comforting gesture.

 _“Yes,”_ Lisa’s hands clenched the steering wheel tightly, “we are two fucking miles from the damn highway, you cunt-faced shit-fucker.”

Mick Rory chuckled. He was putting the coffee bag in one of the empty cabinets. _We have coffee,_ Barry thought sourly, _and no food_. Mick Rory ambled his way across to the couch then, sitting next to Len. The pyromaniac shoved the porn magazine into the side of the cushion and then pulled his gun out of the holster. “Can I have that?” Mick Rory asked, pointing to the damp cloth Barry was still holding. Barry gave it to him and Mick started cleaning his heat gun of ash and grime.

“Ouch!” Mark Mardon yelped as Shawna and Hartley tied his chest up. Shawna chastened him and Hartley rolled his eyes, mumbling some long monologue about stupidity being an inherited trait and how the two _heteros_ (Hartley’s phrasing) better be using protection.

“You think there’ll be a rest stop by the entrance to the highway?” Leonard wondered aloud.

“I’m _praying_ for one,” Lisa said stiffly. The RV made a sudden swift turn and then it was still going by slowly. Always crawling forward at a pace Barry had learned to just accept; he had to concentrate on the thrumming of the engine rather than the slow movement of the wheels or the pace threatened to drive him crazy. It was like riding the back of a freaking turtle. Barry wanted to be as far away from the compound as possible.

“Lenny,” Lisa said, “why don’t you come up here? I have to tell you something.” Len squeezed Barry’s hand tightly and then stood up, walking over to the driver’s seat to talk to Lisa.

Barry sighed and turned to watch Shawna and Hartley fussing over Mark Mardon. The three of them didn’t seem to make the best team, they were uncoordinated and the personalities didn’t match; Mark kept pulling away from Hartley when Hartley’s hands lingered even a moment too long, and Shawna did nothing to sooth any of Mark Mardon’s aches and pains, roughly patching him up and bemoaning all of the things she _could_ be doing to help him but couldn’t without any medical supplies. Being trapped together for months makes strange bedfellows (literally); but Mark Mardon accepted the other two fussing over him without question and Shawna and Hartley were genuinely concerned about him.

Barry looked at the floor and began to trace a circle in the ash with his fingers. _Mick must have fired his gun off in here,_ Barry decided, and his other hand rubbed a circle on his temple.

He could tell, somehow, that Lisa was telling Len about their escape from the compound and what Barry had done.

“I don’t see why we had to be rescued by the _Snarts,_ of all people,” Mark Mardon whispered quietly to Shawna and Hartley. It was obvious he didn’t realize Barry could hear. “And that’s _him,_ you know.”

“Yeah, he's the Flash,” Shawna whispered back, “it’s okay though. He’s not _doing_ anything; he’s trying to survive just like us.”

“Are we seriously going to trust the Snarts and the Flash though? I mean, where are we going with these guys?”

“Central City,” Hartley told Mark Mardon quietly as he pointed to something on Mark’s back, showing Shawna. Shawna looked at it, an injury or a bruise maybe- Barry couldn’t see, and they both sighed. “And honestly, all four of those guys are strong- none of us is a deadweight either. With what happened before it makes sense to travel with others.”

“And what if we happen across the actual military in the Gem Cities?” Mark Mardon hissed, worried, “You think _the Flash_ won’t turn us in?”

“Definitely not,” Shawna said, and Hartley agreed. Shawna pushed Mark Mardon’s shoulder playfully and whispered conspiratorially in his ear, “If Flash turns _us_ in he has to turn Leonard Snart in.”

“And?” Mark Mardon didn’t understand.

Barry’s skin flushed and he made a point to stare intensely at the ground.

“The Flash sucks Leonard Snart’s dick,” Shawna mumbled with delight. There was a rustle of fabric as she leaned forward. “I _saw_ him.”

“You mean figuratively,” Mark Mardon clarified just as Hartley hissed under his breath, “You _saw?_ That is ridiculously unfair.”

“I did,” Shawna told Hartley, “and Captain Cold is totally hung I swear. I see what Flash is getting out of it; _I_ want it.”

“Hey,” Mark Mardon said angrily. He paused and then whispered, “Flash is _literally_ sucking Cold’s dick?”

“Totally,” Shawna said amazingly, “it’s beautiful revenge honestly. Flash sucking a Rogue’s dick, _like,_ it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. And seriously it was pretty great- did you know he can vibrate? Honestly to god, superspeed powers mean the Flash _vibrates_ like what a beautiful super-talent, I am actually jealous.”

Barry thought about burying himself in the ground, though that would mean admitting he was listening.

Hartley actually _whined,_ an extremely undignified noise. “I just want to be the middle of that sandwich; I’d die so happily-”

“Gross, Hartley,” Mark Mardon mumbled.

“I’m not going to apologize for the truth as it is,” Hartley announced, “I graduated summa cum laude, have two PhDs, a plethora of patents on soundwave technologies, and I would also bite off my hand to get some action right now.”

 _“Gross,_ Hartley,” Mark Mardon repeated.

"So can you relate," Hartley said, leaning over Mark Mardon to stare eagerly at Shawna, "or explain, in great detail what you saw?" Shawna was grinning at him and Mark Mardon rolled his eyes.

Barry had been too tired to bother jumping in earlier in the conversation, but the idea of Hartley… with Cold… was something a bit too aggravating for Barry to be able to let go of. _Hartley would be pleasant if he could keep his dick in his pants_ , Barry thought annoyingly. Though then he realized he’d considered _Hartley Rathaway_ , resident dick-head and pompous ass, 'pleasant' and boy, Barry must be getting desperate for friends because _that_ was weird.

“Drop the idea, Hartley,” Barry said. He raised both his hands up to his face to rub his temples.

“You can’t blame-” Hartley started to say as Shawna and Mark stared at Barry awkwardly.

“I can,” Barry snapped at him, “and I will, so just drop it.”

Mark Mardon was still clutching the bruises on his chest, but there was a look of unadulterated vengeance and delight on his face as he leaned forward and said, “So you’re taking Captain Cold’s dick then?”

Barry was more than pissed at Mardon for getting _trapped,_ for making Barry have to fight out of that damn compound, and for being _an ass_. “If your brother rose from the grave you think my father shot him again?”

The glee disappeared from Mardon’s face and filled with nothing but rage. There was a jerk of the RV and then it stopped, Lisa putting it into break as she mumbled something about storm clouds. “My brother was shot by a black police officer,” he snapped, “what the fuck are you talking about, Flash?”

“Joe West,” Barry turned his body and dropped his hands to his side as fists, “he raised me.”

Hartley whistled and said aloud, “My, what a tangled web we weave.”

Mark Mardon’s eyes flashed. “That man _killed my brother_ -”

“And you were going to destroy all of Central City with a _tsunami,”_ Barry snapped.

“I didn’t even get a chance to attempt-” Mark began.

“You’re a killer and a criminal and I should have _left you_ ,” Barry said in a low tone. He glared at Mark Mardon, his teeth grinding together. “We shouldn’t have brought you.”

“Oh, _I’m_ a killer,” Mark Mardon stood up on shaking legs. Shawna attempted to grab him and pull him down but Mardon shoved her hand away. “And you’ve been snuggling up with the Snarts and Heatwave? That’s _rich.”_

Leonard came up quickly behind them. He took a short moment to glare at everyone and then Mark Mardon and Barry in particular. “Everyone else to the front of the car.”

 _“Sure,”_ Shawna said sarcastically.

Leonard raised his gun level with her face and shot a cold burst of air without warning. It was just a small chunk of ice, it went straight through where Shawna had been and hit the wall, starting to melt instantly. Shawna had ‘jumped’ the moment Len pulled the trigger. “Rude!” Shawna yelled from the shotgun seat.

“Hartley, Mick,” Len ordered.

Hartley raised his hands in an expression of surrender and slowly walked past the other two to the front of the car. “It’s not like we’re _that_ far away,” Hartley muttered. A glance from Len though and Hartley paled and didn’t say anything else.

Mick Rory grumbled under his breath but stood up and meandered over to the front of the car to glare at Shawna sitting in the passenger seat. He just stood awkwardly next to Lisa as he shuffled around his gun. Lisa, since the car was still stopped due to the sudden and probably entirely Mark Mardon-created thunderstorm outside, slumped over the front of the wheel and looked like she was napping.

“Alright, if you plan to stay with us, Mark...” Len said carefully, and then he stopped and frowned at Barry as he crossed his arms. “Barry, stand up.”

Barry was the only one of the three of them still sitting. Annoyed, he stood up along with them and he leaned against the couch chair. He crossed his arms, his one hand pressing on a knot in his neck. Barry _really_ didn’t want to look at Len. He knew he'd just been childish, if Barry hadn't brought up Joe West there wouldn't be an issue at the moment.  He just _did it_ , on instinct, not even thinking to censor himself.

“What is going on, Barry?” Len stared at him, “Is this because you had to kill that woman?”

Barry froze.

“Lisa told me about it,” Len said. He seemed like he was holding himself back from something, his body leaning a bit toward Barry but he didn’t make a move. “You did what you had to in order to save the group.”

“You killed somebody?” Mark Mardon said, sounding actually impressed as he side-eyed Barry.

Barry shuffled his feet uncomfortably and couldn’t think of a single thing to say. It felt horribly wrong to be _congratulated_ on killing someone. Barry wasn’t a soldier or a criminal, he wasn’t a _killer._ Though now… now he had.

 _“But,”_ Leonard said with a hard look at both of them, “if Detective Joe West did kill Mark Mardon’s father we obviously have a conflict on our hands. If we survive long enough to-”

“Tell the Wizard to stop the storm,” Lisa called out from the front.

 _“Lisa,”_ Len snapped with clenched teeth. He turned back to Barry and Mark with a painfully faked calm expression on his face. “If we survive long enough to get some supplies and find another car, you and Shawna are _free to go_ ,” Len told Mark, “but _until_ then if you so much as think about hurting Barry I will toss you both outside and drive off.” It was clear that wasn’t an empty threat.

Mark contemplated that for a moment and looked at Barry. “Who did you kill?”

Barry’s knuckles turned white. “The General had Lisa hostage,” he said stiffly.

Mark’s hands rubbed against some of the bruises on his chest and he seemed deep in thought. After a short period of time, Mark dropped his hands to his side and shrugged. “The General was the one who tortured me enough to get me to make that compound summer,” he said slowly, “she was worse than DeVoe. Had CIA training or some shit, I dunno. If you killed her… that could make us alright. My beef is more with your father than you.”

“We are going to Central City,” Len told Mark carefully. Len leaned against the kitchen cabinet; his arms still cross and his demeanor cold and calculated. “If we come across any of Barry’s family we are going to join up with them.”

“Are we?” Mick Rory looked up with surprise.

“Yes,” Len answered Mick without looking at the other man. He kept his attention on Mark. “The Flash has more than a few connections that I’d rather have on my side in the apocalypse than not. From here on out life is about _survival,_ not revenge.”

“And if someone killed _your_ sister?” Mark Mardon asked. The question wasn’t harsh, surprisingly.

“They would be dead already,” Len said simply. “But I also know when to pick my battles, weatherman; if you want to challenge Joe West to a duel when you see the man you should know you’re going to be dealing with Flash as well. So either you leave your girlfriend alone to deal with zombies or you come to some closure over what happened to your brother.”

Mark Mardon sighed and ran a hand through his rough and unbrushed hair.

 _Holy crap_ , Barry thought, staring at Len as the man was expertly manipulating and talking with Mark Mardon because, _What? Is he actually talking this out?_   Gone was the angry Leonard who had been throwing things an in his place was a negotiator.  Len was being a _leader;_ a full-blown, born Caesar with some kind of magically impressive political skills apparently... when Len choose to apply them. Barry hadn’t assumed it had been _easy_ for the man to bring together so many enemies, to be friends with Mick Rory and to expertly maneuver his way around the criminal world- but here was the evidence of what a natural genius Len was.

“Joe West is a police officer,” Len said carefully to Mark Mardon, “the man was doing his job. And though I wouldn’t have stepped in the way of your vengeance before the apocalypse but here we are now. Blame the undead for your lost revenge.”

“He was my little brother, you know, it’s not an easy thing to let go.”

“You don’t have to let it go, just not act on it. The Flash saved your life at the compound. I was more than ready to leave you and Shawna behind when we escaped but Barry insisted. And,” Len added, “if you plan on staying with my team and surviving with us than you had better start becoming friends. I’m more than a little invested in keeping the Flash safe.”

Mark Mardon smirked. “So I heard.”

Len acknowledged that with a curt nod of his head. “The seven of us can’t live and fight together if we’re going to be holding grudges. Everyone works together, and everyone listens _to me_.” Len’s eyes stared directly at Mark’s in a challenge. “I get that you were leading your group around before this but if you’re staying here everyone defers to me. It’s the way it goes.”

“Even the Flash?”

“Even me,” Barry jumped in. Two weeks ago Barry would never have been so quick to align himself with the Rogues, certainly not accepting Captain Cold as a leader, but things had changed. Besides, Barry wasn’t exactly sure of his own abilities and skill to lead a group of criminals.

“Alright,” Mark Mardon said without a fight, “I obviously did a piss poor job leading my team.”

The storm must have cleared because Lisa started the engine again and began to move the RV forward. The slow crawl of the wheels and thrum of the engine felt familiar and comfortable to Barry.

Hartley Rathaway, who’d been watching the whole exchange carefully, stepped toward the group and interrupted.  “Okay,” Hartley said, “and I’m not complaining… much. But the idea that I’m trading out my old not-college-educated leader for _another_ isn’t the great feeling. Why do you think _you_ should be leader over me or the Flash?”

“Shawna and I went to college too, you know,” Lisa interrupted from the front of the car.

“Maybe because Cold has been keeping the four of us alive for three months,” Barry said to Hartley, “and I don’t know about you but I didn’t major in _zombie survival skills._ ”

“It should be a vote,” Hartley frowned as he gripped the side of the RV when the RV hit a bump.

“Do you think Barry, Lisa, and Mick are going to vote for someone else?” Len asked Hartley, amused. “For the record," he added to rub salt in the wound, "I didn’t even finish high school.”

Hartley looked physically pained at that. “You’re a high school dropout. That's our the leader then?”

“It's the way it is, Piper,” Len told him calmly. “If you don’t like it…” Len gestured to the door, “make sure to tuck your head in before you jump out.”

“Fine, fearless leader,” Hartley said slowly, “I guess we should get back to you yelling at Shawna for forgetting to bring us food?”

“Low blow,” Shawna muttered.

Leonard seemed a bit satisfied now, and Barry couldn’t blame him. All it had taken Len was a short conversation with the new arrivals and now no one was going to be killing each other _and_ Len was still in control of the group. _His Rogues_ , Barry thought. “Now," Len decided, "we go over sleeping arrangements, since I think it will be best if we pull off the road before we get to the highway.”

“Is _that_ up to a vote?” Hartley asked.

“No,” Len said immediately. “Lisa has small bed over the cabinets with the curtain. Barry and I take the master bed, Hartley and Mick are sharing the futon and Shawna and Mark Mardon will make do with the blankets and the floor.”

“Mark is injured,” Shawna defended, “and we don’t have any medical supplies. He shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor.”

The three new members of the group looked at Len nervously as he considered this.

“The master bed is big enough for three people,” Mark Mardon suggested, “Shawna, Hartley and I are pretty used to sharing a bed at this point.”

“Absolutely not,” Len dismissed.

“If we did, you and Flash could have the futon and only Mick Rory would sleep on the floor,” Mark Mardon pressed, “I don’t like the idea of the women having to sleep on the floor.”

“I don’t like the idea of _me_ sleeping on the floor,” Mick Rory said angrily to Mark Mardon. Mark glared at him.

“The bed is for me and Flash, it’s non-negotiable,” Len said calmly. “Mark and Mick will share the futon then and Hartley and Shawna will make do with the blankets.”

“You’re going to make a woman sleep on the floor?” Mark Mardon frowned.

“You can negotiate it with Mick Rory if you want, but unless you find something good to bribe Mick with the bed is still his. The three of you joined _our_ group; this is the way things go so it’s up to you to adapt to it.” Len cracked his knuckles. “Now this has been _exhausting,_ we all were being shot at not too long ago. I think it’s best if we just go to sleep and get our heads in order. Tomorrow we have to find food.”

“Nope,” Lisa said suddenly. She was squinting out of the side of the road. “Look at that,” Lisa pointed into the darkness at some barely visible line around the trees, “ _Whole Foods_. They’ll have medical supplies and plenty of food that hasn’t spoiled.”

Len nodded, satisfied. The tension in the man's shoulders relaxed. _“Good._ Mick, Shawna, and Hartley will take a short trip in there and grab any medical supplies they can find. Tomorrow we’ll do a much more thorough search.” 

* * *

 

Lisa stayed in the front of the car with her gun in her hands as she watched the three scout team members entering the building. Mark Mardon had grudgingly sat on the futon bed but, when his head fell on the pillow and his arms curled around the blankets, Mardon had fallen asleep immediately and was now lightly snoring.

Barry sped into a loose shirt and pants and lay down on the bed, clutching a blanket to his chest and turning his back to Len while Len undid the knot in the curtains and let the dark blue fabric cut them off from the rest of the RV. He could feel Len’s movements as the other man pulled off his clothes and settled into the bed beside him.

Len’s body dipped the mattress toward Barry like a force of gravity, and then the other man’s arm curled around Barry’s body and Len’s chest was against Barry’s back. Len held Barry tightly.

It would have been nice to sleep in a bed together if the escape this morning hadn't gone so wrong.

“I killed someone,” Barry whispered. He could hear his words shaking with emotions of guilt and fear, but those feelings had been churning inside of him for so long Barry had almost forgotten they were there.

“You saved my sister’s life,” Len huffed against his ear.

“It isn’t fair for me to kill anyone,” Barry clenched his eyes shut, expecting tears but nothing came, “it isn’t even a fair fight. I killed her with my powers.”

"Your powers protected my sister's life.  You wouldn't have been able to save her without them."

"I threatened to leave you over this exact same thing," Barry said with a large amount of guilt.  "I said I would... and then I..." Barry rubbed against his eyes with the palm of his hands.

“The Arrow kills people,” Len muttered. His other hand reached out to brush Barry’s tangled hair.

Barry reached up and grabbed Len’s hand. He lifted his head and pulled Len’s arm forward so Barry could rest his head on Len’s bicep like a pillow. He tried to breathe in the smell of Len around him but suddenly his lungs were shaking. He wasn’t crying yet, for some reason, but his entire chest _hurt._ “I never wanted to have to kill someone,” Barry said softly.

"That’s why you’re not a killer, Barry. You didn’t do it because you wanted to- you did it to _save_ someone’s life. _That’s_ what makes you special, Barry, that’s what separates you and the Arrow from real killers. It's what separates soldiers from psychopaths,” Len’s nose pressed up against Barry’s hair and his lips kissed the back of Barry’s neck softly. “You’re still a good person, Barry, I _promise.”_

The tears came quietly, and Len didn’t notice them until they fell onto his arm. And then Len pulled Barry tighter around him.

And it was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help but throw in some adoration for Whole Foods
> 
> I'm writing the Snarts as having natural curly hair because it just seems to make sense to me, and considering Wentworth Miller's curly hair (when he grows it out) bc he is mixed race and all. My headcanons jumping in the way, of course. Don't worry, the headcanons wont extend to a long, ranting chapter about my love of Dinotopia, I leave that to my tumblr blogs.
> 
> Mark Mardon and Barry's past had to be smoothed over in some way, and better early than later. Hm... things are both happening faster and slower than I really want them to. I am rather perplexed I'm at 180 pages and I'm not even to Central City yet :0 Soon, (I promised it would be soon like 10 chapters ago but...) soon.
> 
> If you want to send me a message off Ao3 or look through related, fandomy things I run the blog coldflashcw.tumblr.com. The link to my main blog is on there too. The support I've gotten is lovely, thank you all :)


	16. Detox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jgi1txjrKZk
> 
> tw: zombies (briefly)
> 
> I like my countdown system because it keeps me from organizing my thoughts about chapters but when the characters have stayed in the same place for more than one chapter it gets confusing. So I decided to sporadically name some chapters, see where that gets me and if it makes my chapter index look a bit nicer.

145 Miles from Central City

A hand clamped over Barry’s mouth and clamped his jaw shut to keep him from talking.

Frank Sinatra’s voice was playing somewhere near and yet far away; the song was one Barry recognized instantly from the _Fallout: New Vegas Soundtrack_ ; he blinked, half-awake, barely remembering what Mark Mardon had said about music calming the weatherman down before Barry looked at the hand on his face.

Hartley Rathaway was staring at him.

Hartley crouched by the side of the bed, in the small space by the floor, and his hood was covering the top of his forehead as his panicked eyes shone underneath. “ _Blue moon_ ,” Frank Sinatra crooned quietly with a loud sizzle from the record player, “ _you saw me standing alone_ …”

“Hartley?” Barry whispered, bleary-eyed and tired.

Hartey’s index finger immediately went to his mouth in a ‘shush’ gesture.

Barry, now mostly awake, felt uncomfortable and shifted his weight, but Len’s left arm was curled tightly around his waist and Barry’s head was still resting on Len’s bicep, with that arm curled back as Len’s fingers rested gently on the top of Barry’s head. Barry was held strong against the other man, the connection between them warm and calming, and Barry didn’t exactly care to move. But Barry… he definitely wasn’t… _embarrassed_ to be the little spoon… that was… it had just _happened_ that way so… Len was just _comfortable_ so…

Barry blushed fiercely and stared at Hartley.

“ _You heard me saying a prayer for… someone I really could care for_ …”

Hartley’s voice was so low and quiet Barry could hardly hear it. “It’s Antoinette,” he mumbled to Barry, leaning forward. Hartley pointed to somewhere behind Barry but Barry couldn’t see it as curled up as he was around Len.

“Who?” Barry asked. Unless Barry had been sleeping for an _exceedingly_ long time again, there was no woman named ‘Antoinette’ who had joined their group. He frowned, taken aback and looking at Hartley in sleepy confusion.

Hartley’s forehead wrinkled with worry and annoyance.

“ _I heard somebody whisper ‘Please adore me_ ’…”

“I…” Hartley scooted forward so close that Barry could see the individual cracks in his glasses and the sparse freckles on Hartley’s face and it was just weird. Barry’s head moved backward just in response to it. “I trained Antoinette to respond to musical cues,” Hartley whispered softly, his voice rushed, “and the music is interfering…”

“ _And when I looked to the moon it turned to gold_ …”

“The rat?” Barry asked softly.

“She got used to sleeping next to you,” Hartley said nervously. Len’s fingers twitched against Barry’s head, a soft flutter of fingernails along Barry’s hair, but it was just a result of Len sighing in his sleep. Hartley didn’t know that so he ducked, grabbing the top of his hood and pulling it over his face.

Keeping his voice as quiet as he could, Barry hissed at Hartley, “Stop being scared of _Len.”_

“Excuse you,” Hartley mumbled, looking up at Barry carefully, still curled underneath the bed, “but if Cold finds a _rat_ in his bed because of me I’ll get iced or something similarly ironic and horrible.”

Barry had gotten used to the rat, though Hartley had always shied away from telling Barry if the rat had a name. He’d said ‘of course not!’ and ‘I’m keeping it for experiments not a pet!’ when Barry had asked or offered to name her; and Barry was a little pissed off that after a week of sharing a room with Hartley the genius hadn’t bothered to share the _name_ of the rat, which apparently was _Antoinette._ It worked, the rat was a quiet, gentle animal that just liked to commit small acts of destruction on objects and eat. It would crawl up into Hartley’s hood to snuggle when Hartley whistled.

Although… it was definitely unusual to sleep in a bed with a rat. That was something that featured more in people's nightmares.  And as Barry managed to blink away lingering flickers of sleep he realized that _yeah,_ Leonard would probably _not_ have the calmest reaction to a rat sleeping in the bed.

“Where is she?” Barry whispered softly.

“Look, if you can just reach your hand really slowly behind you,” Hartley asked, and Barry did it as Hartley narrated, “just hold your finger out and try and get her to sniff it.” Barry’s hand was twisted a bit and lying somewhere behind Len’s back. He felt awkward and contorted in the position but then suddenly he felt the brush of whiskers against his thumb. “Okay, snap your fingers,” Hartley said.

“Why?”

“ _Blue moon_ ,” Frank Sinatra crooned as the record player cracked comfortingly in the background. The song reminded Barry of the apocalypse… well, of the video game which was about the apocalypse and that was kind of a circular thought. What was the point of having music to distract someone in the apocalypse when the music _reminded_ them of the apocalypse? “ _Now I’m no longer alone… without a dream in my heart_ …”

“She’ll jump in your hand if you snap your fingers,” Hartley explained carefully, his worried eyes flickering to Len’s unmoving face.

“ _without a love of my own_ …”

Barry snapped his fingers and felt two tiny, scratchy paws press on his palm and then a weight shifted and the rat was settling herself calmly into Barry’s hand. Her nose brushed against Barry’s index finger. Carefully, Barry closed his fingers, her fur was rough and scratchy but clean, and slid his hand up and over toward his chest.

Hartley’s relief was instantaneous. He held out both of his hands in a soft bowl and Barry gently set the rat down in Hartley’s hands. “I have to get a cage for her,” Hartley whispered as he placed his hands to his chest, he seemed to mostly be speaking to himself, “if Mark is going to keep playing this music at night.”

Barry just nodded silently.

“ _And when I looked the moon turned to gold… Blue moon… now I’m no longer alone_ …”

“Thanks,” Hartley whispered to Barry.

“It’s no problem, Hartley,” Barry told him with a soft grin.

Hartley frowned and nodded. He sat up slowly, careful not to dislodge the rat he was holding carefully in his hands, and ducked his way past the curtains and back into the main area of the RV.

" _And suddenly appeared before me..._ "

Barry sighed and sleep called back to him almost instantly. He closed his eyes and shifted his weight just enough to get a knot out of his knee. Len’s hand pulled him even tighter against his chest, and the other man’s hot breath warmed the back of Barry’s neck. Barry’s face fell back on Len’s arm, his nose pressed against the skin there and it was so, amazingly, comfortable.

Barry left arm slid back, just enough for him to rest the hand over Len’s and curl his hand over Len’s hand that was still clenched on his waist. As he waited for sleep to take a hold of him, he couldn’t help but feel bad for Hartley, who was going to struggle more than most to find someone to be with, and then that sympathy extended to Lisa and Mick who were stuck, alone, neither one liking the other in a romantic way.

He hoped that wherever Iris was, she had Eddie to sleep beside her.

 

* * *

 

“There _are_ zombies in the Whole Foods,” Shawna was telling Leonard as the entire group was suiting up, “we killed about two of them yesterday getting to the feminine care and bandages aisles, not much, more of them were in the back of the store and we left before they could amble up.”

“They weren’t a problem?” Len asked, as he clicked his holster on over his chest.

“Nah, we handled it.” Mick Rory nodded.

 _People take awhile to get changed,_ Barry observed, watching Lisa sliding on her jacket and checking her gun, Mick Rory shoving a knife into the back of his pants, and Hartley doing god-knew-what with some highly complicated machinery connected to his gloves and the hearing aids in his ears. Mark Mardon sat in the front of the RV, pissed that he had nothing other than a small steak knife to protect himself. Kitchen supplies were really the only weapons the Rogues had on them; Mick hadn’t had enough hands to carry anything from the compound’s armory besides the three guns and Barry’s suit.

The suit still smelled like laundry detergent and the frantic washing Barry had done the other night had gotten all of the blood out of it. Even with what had happened, it still felt good to wear the uniform.  

“Got an estimate on the number of the walkers?” Len asked. He clicked his cold gun into place and then stuffed his hunting knife into the back of his belt.

“Not a hoard, probably like ten,” Shawna said.

Hartley adjusted the aids in his ears and clicked something on his wrists. Hartley nodded, excited, as a low green light shone on his knuckles. He shook his head once and then said loudly to Shawna, “Did you tell him about the walkers?”

Shawna rolled her eyes at him. _“Yes,_ Hartley.”

“We’ll go in pairs then; we can take three groups with Mark Mardon keeping watch here. Try and find some bags when you get in, bring anything relevant at the door and we’ll look through it before we bring it the the RV,” Len ordered.

Lisa smirked, glancing at Barry and then Len. “I assume you and I aren’t going to be partners anymore, Lenny?” She asked smugly.

“Stick with Mick, sis,” Len said with a curt nod, “Shawna and Hartley will be the other group. We might as well keep people familiar with each other together.”

“We going to have a signal in case one of us gets in trouble?” Lisa asked.

“Just shout, we’re all in the same store we won’t be far from each other,” Len pulled on his parka.

Barry glanced for a moment at the people around him. He remembered thinking something, almost a month ago, about a zombie apocalypse survival team and now that the group was expanded the thought came again. There was the criminal mastermind, the pyromaniac, the golden girl, the weatherman, the teleporter, the evil genius, and the runner. To be honest, they actually made an amazing collection of people. The Rogues took on an entire hoard of zombies not too long ago, and they just added three new people to their cramped living quarters. Honestly, if anyone was going to attempt to kill or steal from them they were in for a surprise.

The group finished suiting up and Len headed out the door first. The group had to cross the entire long parking lot and Barry, following right behind Len, stepped in the other man’s footprints as they walked. When he glanced behind him he saw that Lisa was doing the same, although Mick behind her was just barreling through the snow.  The snow was still deep, almost two feet of it in the ground with long, frozen waves made by wind rushing, uneven, along the floor. But the temperature had risen; Barry no longer felt like if he stayed out too long his nose and ears would freeze off. Mick could probably burn the snow away with his gun if he tried.

Whatever Mark Mardon had been doing, messing with the temperature outside (or “stealing the heat” as Shawna had described it) was done, and now the world was on its regularly scheduled melt into spring.

Barry wished he knew what month it was.

Len reached the glass doors of the Whole Foods and grabbed the metal handle immediately, the gloves on his hands keeping his fingers from freezing, and tugged on the door with impressive, non-meta-human strength. It moved nearly half an foot but the snow which had built up against the door (even since it had been opened last night) made it hard to move. It took Barry, pushing on the outside of it, and then Lisa who had been right after them, pulling on the door for it to open wide.

Mick Rory stepped inside mumbling a, “Thanks for the chivalry,” at the three of them. Barry rolled his eyes and followed the pyromaniac inside.

He was struck instantly by the smell of rotten fruit, a scent sickly sweet and gross that had festered in the building- it wasn’t completely horrible, the cold must have kept most of the foods from spoiling too bad with the unnatural winter acting as a freezer. Still, there were underlying smells of rottenness in addition to the distinct smell of the living dead.

Barry’d grown strangely used to bad smells. Dealing so long with the undead clogging up someone’s nostrils made everyday nasty odors something barely noticeable. There’d been two weeks in the beginning that Barry had been stuck in the old van with the Snarts and Mick Rory without showers, deodorant, or soap and even those scents hadn’t been much of an issue compared with the dead.

The apocalypse wasn’t the first time Barry had smelled rotting bodies; he knew the way it gets under your skin at a crime scene. He'd even been to a body farm when he was in university and studied decay there.  He was used to taking baths in tomato juice to soak it out, burning clothes that just wouldn’t absorb the scents of laundry and kept reminding smelling like dead things. Barry had learned to deal with the smell as a forensic scientist. It was a skill that came in handy now.

The other six Rogues (Barry honestly couldn’t believe the name he’d given them had _stuck_ so well that Barry thought it without thinking) gathered into the entrance, only Hartley and Lisa screwed up their noses at the smell.

“I want Lisa and Mick going over toward the food,” Len said, pointing to his right as he faced the people in front of them, “cans and preserves and nuts, most important, if you can find any freeze dried fruits or noodles-”

“Alcohol?” Mick Rory interrupted.

“Water _first,_ but yes, alcohol,” Len said with a shrug. “Remember, grab some of the bags and bring everything you find back here. We’re not taking anything to the RV without a plan for storing it.  There are lots of us and even less space now. Lisa will be your lookout, Mick, so you have to carry everything. Now,” he looked at Hartley and Shawna, “you two know where the medical supplies are and Shawna knows what is important with her medical background. Hartley, you’re the lookout, make sure to listen to what Shawna tells you to get. Barry and I will look through the rest of the market supplies. Simple enough?”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Shawna said with a salute.

Len smirked. “Oh, and Hartley, if you find any electronic supplies you think would help you make those earpieces you made for the people at the compound pick it up. I am trusting that pretty much everyone here knows what they need and what they want to get. Once we have a good supply of essentials, if we have any room, I’ll let everyone wander and pick whatever they need. I’m sure they have books here.”

“Fuck,” Hartley said reverently. Barry glanced at the genius and thought he saw a little squirming motion underneath Hartley’s hood… Antoinette? “God, I have missed books.”

“Same, they don’t really occupy me for long though,” Barry said with a hint of sadness. Speed reading was one of those powers that just happened whether he could control it or not. The other Rogues had been able to grab one of the books and spend entire afternoons and evenings wrapped in thought, Barry was lucky if he finished the story in over a minute.

Len was looking at the group with annoyance. “Alright?” He said, frowning at them. No one said anything, and Len clarified, “You can _move out_ now.”

Sheepish, Lisa coughed into her hand and then, holding her gun at her side, started walking away toward the food aisle with Mick Rory dogging behind her. Shawna instantly _jumped_ over to the left of the store where the pharmacy was and Hartley let out an angry curse before running after her.

Barry grinned at Len, grabbing the top of his uniform Flash hood and pulling it off of his head. “The grocery store,” Barry said slowly, walking over to Len and hooking the other man’s arm with his own, “you shouldn’t have.”

“Only the best for you,” Len said, a huff air coming out of his nose almost like a laugh. He accepted Barry’s arm in his, walking the speedster over to their left toward the aisles of toiletries that there. His other hand held the gun at his side. The two of them paused at every aisle, looking for any of the undead to come by, but none were making an appearance yet.

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?” Barry asked him. They slid into one of the aisles and Barry noticed pretty instantly that the place had the hallmark signs of early-apocalypse looting.

“Rat poison,” Len said stiffly as he stepped over spilled bath salts and the general chaos of items having been knocked to the floor in a mad rush.

Barry cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um… about the rat…?”

“Don’t tell me there isn’t a rat, I know Hartley has been keeping something around him and I swear I saw fucking rat droppings in the bathroom sink,” Len had to let go of Barry’s arm as he grabbed a tote bag from a hook on the wall. It was one of those ones that had the Whole Foods logo on it and cost 99 cents. Barry wasn't sure why that stuck out to him.

“Her name is Antoinette,” Barry told him. Barry knocked over a container on the floor and noticed it was a foot scrub. He briefly wondered if Mick Rory would be offended if he gave it to the man. “She’s trained.”

“I am not keeping a rat around,” Len told him.

“Yes, you are. Her name is Antoinette and she comes with Hartley. She’s pretty pleasant and she squeaks when you pet her stomach,” Barry defended. There was no way, _especially_ after last night, that Barry was going to force Hartley to part with the rat. Everyone in the apocalypse needed someone around to keep them distracted from misery. Barry, Lisa, and Mick Rory all had Len for that (at varying capacity); Shawna and Mark Mardon had each other and all Hartley got was a pittance of friendship and a pet. “We’re not getting rid of her.”

Len grimaced. He stepped over a large pile of… it looked like toilet paper but there were shampoo bottles that had fallen and the contents gotten all over it. And reached out for Barry’s hand to help Barry step over it so Barry didn’t get any on his uniform. _Romantic,_ Barry thought sourly. “You’re seriously going to put your foot down about a rat?” Len asked, looking at Barry with a frown.

“Yep,” Barry said with a pleasant tone. He punched Len’s shoulder playfully. “And you’re fine with it,” he said nervously. He wasn’t sure if Len… was the type of person who he could do this sort of a relationship with, if Barry could make some solid stance on something and have Len accept it. _Banter is a lot simpler when it’s just about sex,_ Barry realized.

Len raised an eyebrow at him incredulously. He crossed his arms and frowned.

“You know,” Barry said to change the subject, he looked at Len’s gaze and not sure what to make of it, “you didn’t say which one of us was the lookout.”

“I’ll watch your back,” Len told him immediately.

“I am the faster one, maybe I should be the one looking out for you.”

“You can carry the bags to the door far quicker than me, Barry, that’s why. I’m not trying to be overbearing,” Len said carefully, tilting his head and looking at Barry’s expression as if he was seeing something fascinating there.

Barry blinked. “I don’t think you’re being overbearing,” he said, confused. The thought had definitely not crossed his mind.

Len stared at Barry for a half-second that felt like a minute before he turned down the first of the aisles they were going to be looking at. “Come on, speedster,” Len said as he walked away, “grab a bag and let’s get going.”

Barry did, holding two of the plastic, organic-or-some-crap-that-didn’t-matter-anymore bags in his hands and he followed Len. He didn’t bother using his powers but jogged over to Len’s side.

“Hair dye,” Len said with unexpected triumph in his voice. He pointed at a row of boxes with a woman’s smiling face on them and the exact same hairstyle with different colors. “Lisa’s going to have to accept her hair growing curly if she keeps it long but she’s going to want to dye it, I’m sure.” He glanced through some of the colors of browns before picking one out and dumping it into his bag. Then he grabbed another color, a bright red velvet, and held it up to Barry’s face with a smirk. “So, Scarlet,” Len started to say.

Barry knocked Len’s hand away instantly and let the red hair dye clatter to the floor. “Absolutely not. I’ll dye my hair red when you dye yours white,” Barry said with a grin.

“Ridiculous.” Len reached out to run his hand through Barry’s hair, which was dumb and Barry knocked Len’s hand away again.

“Stop,” Barry said, “we need to find a battery operated buzzer.”

Len’s face was the expression of complete nonchalance when he crooned, “Barry, you do a _perfectly_ good impersonation of a vibrator yourself, you don’t need the competition.”

Barry’s face flushed. “ _A hair buzzer_ ,” he clarified, embarrassed, “so you stop scratching your head all the time.”

“I don’t do that,” Len defended.

“Yes, you do,” Barry told him smugly.

“If we’re all going to be sitting around doing each other’s hair,” Len stepped into Barry’s space and reached up, taking a lock of Barry’s hair in his own and rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger, “you could use a cut too, Bradley Cooper.”

“It’s not that long,” Barry said though it came out more as a question.

“I’m sure Lisa could do a good job trimming the sides and the top, getting it a little closer to what you had before. It’s not bad,” and Len’s hand was combing through the top of Barry’s head gently, a long, comforting pattern from Barry’s forehead to the back of his head, “a bit wild without any of that hair gel you used to use. Pretty much a permanent case of sex hair.”

“I blame you for that,” Barry said with a grin. He reached up and rested one of his arms on Len’s shoulder.

Len gave him a quick kiss, just a gently push of his lips on Barry’s, and then he pulled away. “We have to get some supplies before we can sneak off,” Len said. He glanced to the other side of the aisle, where there was makeup and press on nails, and rolled his eyes at that. He turned to walk down to the rest of the aisle and Barry followed him until they got to the razors.

“We don’t have to sneak off like horny teenagers,” Barry said. He tore open a few boxes of male and female razors, to make some space, and put them in his bag. The razors the men had been using to shave their faces were definitely worn, and Barry knew Lisa liked to hide razors on her person as weapons ever since he’d seen them at the compound.

“I’m not exactly so certain Rathaway wouldn’t try to spy on us,” Len said with a strange combination of bitterness, annoyance, and pride.

“Hartley isn’t going to spy on us. He’ll say sexual things to make everyone uncomfortable but he’d not exactly trying to get on your bad side,” Barry said, defending Hartley. He probably wouldn’t have been this adamant protecting the Pied Piper if it hadn’t been for the revelation last night. Plus he’d been roommates with Hartley for a week and they hadn’t left wanting to kill each other, which must be a sign. “I think Hartley’s scared of you.”

Deodorant and soap were the next things they found. “He’s right to be scared. I don’t care for pompous dicks who think their education makes them more qualified than me,” Len told Barry. It was surprisingly… open.

Yeah, it was. It was a kind, truthful, in-the-open, conversation between boyfriends and… _wow,_ Barry thought. The thought was pleasant.

“I don’t think Hartley could ever lead the group. You’re the only one any of us is going to trust for that, you know,” Barry told Len. _Toothpaste,_ Barry said as he grabbed the supplies easily, _thank god_. “No one cares about who has a degree and who doesn’t.”

Len nodded carefully. His arm brushed against Barry’s, hand giving Barry’s wrist a gentle squeeze, as he crossed the aisle to get some hand sanitizer.

“How old were you when you left high school?” Barry asked, “I mean… I’m just curious. You don’t have to-”

“Seventeen,” Len interrupted with a shrug. “You don’t have to worry about asking me things, Barry. When did you decide to be a forensic scientist?”

Barry looked at Len in surprise. “Oh, uh,” he set the bag down for a moment, leaning on the aisle shelf to look at Len, “it just seemed an obvious choice. I’ve been interested in social justice since my mother was murdered, and I was raised by a cop, but I was much more of a science ah… geek, I guess, than a jock. Joe’s connections at the force got me an internship as soon as I graduated, and then the old head of the department retired so I got promoted to full-time pretty quickly.”

“My dad was a cop too,” Len said simply as he filled his bag with tissues and q-tips.

Barry hadn’t known that, though something about it rang familiar. He’d been told just a basic bit about the Snart’s background the first time they’d met, but most of what Joe had said was forgotten. He thought for a long moment before he decided what to say in response. “You really went out of the box for career choice.”

Len laughed. “Yeah,” he said, a grin crossing his face that Len covered with his hand, “I definitely didn’t do the old man proud. One of my greatest accomplishments.”

He handed Barry his bag then, which was full, and Barry knew what to do with it instantly. He sped forward, fast as lightning, depositing the three bags next to the door of the Whole Foods. As he ran back to Len he grabbed some paper bags from one of the registers, briefly noticing Hartley taking down a zombie in a pharmacy coat, and then was right back standing in front of Len.

“So,” Barry said, body still rocking a bit from the force of the speed inside of him, “did you get a glance at those records that Mardon brought with him because I had some weird dream about fighting mutant insects in a desert wasteland.”

Len took the bag out of Barry’s hand slowly, his forehead wrinkled in confusion as he looked at Barry.

“It’s… a video game,” Barry clarified.

“He’s only got three, unfortunately, Frank Sinatra, Mariah Carey, and the Stranglers,” Len said with an annoyed sigh. He was moving onto the next aisle and Barry followed him. “Don’t worry, I told him if he tries to play the damn Christmas record anywhere near my earshot I’ll ice that crappy music player.”

“Guess we had Frank Sinatra all night,” Barry shrugged. There were shower supplies in this aisle, soaps, shampoos, bodywash, and farther toward the back it looked like some perfumes and things that he was sure they wouldn’t be wasting space on. “That will get old fast if we don’t find more music.”

“There are worse things than fucking to _Golden Brown_ ,” Len said with a self-satisfied shrug.

Barry rolled his eyes and knocked Len’s ribs with his elbow. “Oh Captain, my captain,” Barry with a flat tone, “you really know how to flatter someone.”

Len looked disturbed at that. “Let’s finish looting this,” he said stiffly, “I want to make sure we find where all those undead are hiding before we can relax.”

* * *

 

The bonfire crackled in the parking lot. The Rogues had lounged about the fire in chairs they’d taken from the Whole Foods cafeteria. By now, however, most everyone had taken some blankets from the RV and was lying down on the strangely comfortable, warm cement ground that had been heated by the fire. Frank Sinatra was playing softly, Mark Mardon had brought his music player outside as they ate, and the man was currently sleeping soundly and drunk with his head resting in Shawna’s lap.

All the zombies had been hunted down and thrown into some employee closet, the RV was packed and ready for travel the next day, and so, content, the Rogues had spread out a massive collection of all the food and drinks which they wouldn’t be able to bring along and spent a good hour eating it by the warmth of a steady bonfire.

Lisa and Mick were still drinking, sitting in friendly contentment beside each other as Lisa read a book and Mick poked at the fire with a metal rod. Hartley was feeding Antoinette crumbs out of his hand, trying to get her to squeeze through some small round hole he’d made in a cardboard box. He’d insisted it was important, something research and survival based. Barry only half-believed that.

Barry was leaning against Len’s chest, feeling warm and full for the first time in a long while. The food in his stomach made him tired enough that his eyes were rapidly blinking at the fire as he watched. His hand was resting on Len's knee. Len was drinking a beer slowly, his other hand bracing himself against the floor.

“This better?” Len said suddenly, his voice a low rumble on his chest. It was the first thing anyone had really said for a long time.

“Hm?” Barry shifted his weight just a bit, getting just a little bloodflow back into his sleeping limbs. He wasn’t even drunk (he couldn’t get drunk, which Barry would never stop being peeved over), Barry was just exhausted from the impressive feat of finally having a full stomach. “Better than what?”

Len set his beer down for a moment and then gestured at the bonfire and then the sky. “Romantic,” he said with no small about of sarcasm, “best of the apocalypse.”

Barry moved his hand off Len’s knee to poke the other man roughly in his side. “It’s good, Len.  Don't worry about it.”

With a sigh, Barry sat up straight; just enough so he could run a hand through Len’s buzzed off hair. The feeling of the short hair under his palm was nice, strangely smooth and comfortable. Len pushed Barry’s hand away.

“It’s not going to be too long until we’re in Central City, you know,” Len said, looking straight at the bonfire.

Barry grinned and brushed his hand over Len’s buzzcut again, just to prove he could, then rested his back against Len’s shoulder again. “Yep,” he said. The warmer the weather, the easier it would be to travel. The snowbanks would start melting soon, and the RV had plenty of gas. It wasn’t going to be too long until they crossed the border to Illinois and were at Central City. Things were looking up. When the weather got warm enough that the snow was gone, Barry would even be able to _run_ for them.

“We haven’t really discussed what will happen if we do make contact with your friends,” Len said simply.

The thought was strangely chilling. Then again, Barry knowing what… what Len and him _were_ to each other made it a bit easier. It wasn’t like he was going to make himself choose between Len and his friends and family; Len was Barry’s anchor in the apocalypse and he wasn’t going _anywhere_ without him.

Still. Henry Allen didn’t know a thing about Barry’s sexuality, and Joe West was… Joe could get controlling and overprotective so Joe was not going to like it. Len had also tortured Cisco’s brother, so fuck any sympathy Barry might hope to get from his friend, and Caitlin and Eddie were certainly not going to open their arms up to the troop of criminals Barry was traveling with anytime soon. There was only one good thought Barry could imagine and he decided to stick with that.

“I think Iris will like you,” Barry decided. He relaxed more against Len’s side. “She’s my best friend, you know. We were raised together.”

Barry knew Len’s question had really been _‘What are you going to do with me_?’, the reminder that their lives had never been the most compatible. But Barry had fit in surprisingly well with the Rogues; when they found Barry’s friends it would be Len’s turn to adapt.

“Alright,” Len said with a nod. “What do you think of Hal Jordan? Do you think he’s right, there really is some way to put a stop to all the dead coming back to life?”

Barry turned his head and looked at Len in surprise. “Why?”

Len shrugged. “Seems like something you would do. Meet up with Hal Jordan and save the world.”

Barry laughed nervously at the thought. “This,” he said pointedly as he gestured to the sky, “is a lot bigger than me. I already failed at stopping this once.”

“Well, now you have me to watch your back,” Len told him, his expression serious. “I’m letting you know that if you go down that path, I will follow you.”

It was a beautiful night. A lovely, calm and content night. Barry pressed his head against Len’s shirt and took a deep breath. Len had been right, even if the man hadn’t really known it. Tonight was actually a little romantic.

Barry had always been a sap for romantic gestures.

It wasn't long before Barry was slowly standing up and pulling a tipsy Len to his feet as they walked back to the RV.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until the zombies were literally pounding down the door down that Cisco finally finished. He raised his hands in triumph. “Hallelujah!” Cisco yelled, “Yes!” And he grabbed the tablet from the computer dock, pulling it away. “I love you!” Cisco Ramon declared, kissing the solar powered tablet with massive affection.

“Cisco!” Caitlin Snow yelled at him. She was holding open the door to the balcony, her hands shaking under unfamiliar weight of the machine gun in her hands. It was what they had available. Cisco was armed with two constantly-jamming revolvers tucked into his jeans so it wasn’t exactly like they were properly stocked. Caitlin and Cisco were not the best zombie hunters, that much was painfully obvious.

“I had to download one last thing from the Dropbox,” Cisco said loudly. He zipped open his backpack and dropped the tablet into it. The wooden door suddenly collapsed and the waft of undead bodies hit the two of them like a truck. “Oh shit,” Cisco moaned, stepping backward slowly and clutching the backpack to his chest, “shit, shit, shit.”

The undead stumbled forward, black eyed and hungry.

Caitlin raised the gun toward them and took a shot. Her machine gun shook in her hands and only a few bullets got out before her balance was off and she stumbled backward.

“Get to the ladder!” Caitlin yelled even as Cisco ran past her doing the exact same thing she was telling him to do.

“I got it,” Cisco said. He stopped at the start of the ladder, his face turning pale as he looked at the ground below. “Crap.” He glanced behind him at the ambling, undead monsters with murderous intent heading toward him. “More crap.” With a tight breath, Cisco looped the backpack over his shoulder and grabbed onto the head of the ladder to climb down.

Caitlin attempted to cover but her unfamiliarity with the weapon, and its heaviness, made her shots almost entirely useless. Nothing she shot came near to the zombie’s heads. The moment Cisco was out of the way, Caitlin dropped her weapon, it being held on by a strap over her shoulders, and started down the ladder herself.

 _“What,”_ Caitlin said angrily, “is so _damn_ important you had to wait until the last possible moment! The _others_ are going to be so pissed we wasted our one shot at the generator and computers! They’re out there _risking their lives_ right now waiting for us to radio that we finished!”

“It’s not _wasted!_ We got the maps we needed,” Cisco defended. He was gripping onto the ladder tight enough to bruise his hands as he slowly made his way down, fear so intense he was afraid he was going to faint halfway down and that just made him more afraid. “I got… uh, I got…”

 _“What?”_ Caitlin demanded justifiably.

“I got _the suit schematics_ for the Flash uniform. The GPS code, the earpiece frequency, the sensors, heart rate monitors,” Cisco said, punctuating each piece of information with a woozy step toward the ground, “everything… uh… that would connect us to it.”

Caitlin paused, looking below at Cisco in shock. A hopeful smile crossed her face, the first one in days. “Everything we need to find Barry,” she whispered in awe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Mick have the closest names ever and I am just plagued with making sure they’re noticeably different. If you noticed why I keep referring to them by full names or jumping in with ‘the weatherman’ or ‘the pyromaniac’ that is why.
> 
> I felt this was an important chapter to give Barry time to heal after killing someone and let the Rogues get comfortable together. Also yeah, STAR labs gang.
> 
> There'll be occasional song lyrics when a song is playing in the background and I think it's relevant to the scene, it's not going to be a regular thing but something that's part of how the story progresses. Hopefully it'll kind of work and be seamless throughout. I'll find a link for every song I use & put it in the top of the chapter notes in case anyone wants to listen to it while reading.
> 
> And I'm finishing the night with Barry and Len in the next chapter, of course.


	17. 115 Miles from Central City

115 Miles from Central City

They were the first to head back to the RV. Len’s arm was around Barry’s shoulder in an obvious signal that the others should wait awhile before following.  

It still wasn’t that late; it was only an hour after Barry ate his body had worn off the tired, full feeling, instead filling him up with a restless energy.  The feeling built up in him, stirred on by Len and his easy conversation and the feeling of resting his body against Len’s back.  It was the gratefulness for having that comfort, for Len always giving Barry something to hold onto, and it was also horniness because… well… _fuck._

The moment the door shut Len pushed Barry up against the wall.  Len grabbed Barry’s neck with his hand and kissed Barry hard.  Barry’s hands dropped to Len’s waist to pull their hips flush against each other, the movement practiced and familiar enough to send a warm tingle of anticipation in his chest. _Damn, this is nice,_ Barry thought, opening his mouth against Len’s and sucking slowly. He felt Len’s tongue pushing against his teeth, swooping over the roof of his mouth- Len tasted of organic noodles cooked haphazardly over a smokey bonfire, of soft cherry preserves spread over chocolate and coconut crackers, a mix of sweet hard cider and bitter beer. 

Tonight had been so nice.  So amazingly nice.  And having a shelf in their bedroom stocked with water-based lubricant and condoms was _extra_ amazingly nice.

Their bedroom, the thought was… intense. There was a room where Barry slept in at night with _Leonard Snart_ ; a room where Barry learned that an internationally infamous criminal got icy cold feet at night, liked to snuggle up to something while he slept (which was Barry), and had a low, almost inaudible snore that sounded like a grumble.

Barry grabbed Len’s shoulders, hoisting himself up to wrap his legs around Len’s hips.  Len’s hands grabbed Barry’s ass, holding Barry with only a small bit of wavering.  His mouth was still pressed into a rough kiss, tongue pushing into Barry’s mouth like Len was trying to memorize every single inch inside of him. 

Barry’s mind was more occupied grabbing the front of Len’s jeans and tugging on the buckle. _I am the luckiest motherfucker in the apocalypse,_ Barry thought proudly.

Some days Barry wanted to gloat to Iris so bad he felt sick.

The friction was not enough.  Barry dropped his feet to the ground, Len moaned a protest into Barry’s mouth, and Barry pushed Len back.  He pressed slow, chaste kisses against Len’s mouth as Barry guided them back in the RV over toward their bed.  Len looked so good; his mouth was flushed red from the alcohol and his eyes were nearly solid black with lust.  Len was moving slow, quick to smile, the other man’s hands eager to grab for Barry because Len was certainly somewhere boarding the line between buzzed and drunk. 

Barry wished he could be drunk with Len; that he could get back the feeling of his limbs being like water and his brain too deep to think properly.   _Although,_ Barry thought as he pushed Len onto the bed and Len watched him compliantly, _someone has to be the designated sober one in this gang of criminals._

“I haven’t seen you naked in forever,” Len mumbled, his voice gravely in his throat and the ‘s’ catching in his teeth. 

“We had sex yesterday,” Barry reminded him.  Still, he blurred himself and threw off the costume and his underwear.  It dropped softly to the floor, slow at first and then fast as Barry faded back into normal speed.

“Forever ago,” Len argued calmly, he unzipped his parka quickly, tossing it to the side.  Barry’s hands went back to Len’s belt as Len pulled of his shirt.   _Damn, god, yes,_ Barry thought to himself, pulling the belt off with a snap and shoving Len’s jeans down enough he could see the bulge of black underwear. 

Barry dropped to his knees instantly, pressing his nose against that smell because _fuck,_ it was just _Len._  It was _carnal,_ it was _human,_ and it was everything the apocalypse wasn’t.  “I haven’t had this much sex since…” Len started to say.  He threw his shirt to the side and then rested his back on the bed, spreading his legs for Barry and resting his head on his hands contentedly, “I haven’t had this much sex with anyone.  You realize we’ve been on a marathon; every single day in the compound and now today.”

Barry was untying Len’s shoes, pulling them off with Len’s socks.  “Well…” Barry said, because he actually _hadn’t._  “I guess I did sorta notice my sexual uh… appetite got a bit of a boost with my powers.”

Len was so relaxed, lying back on the bed with his legs spread open for Barry.  He looked more than content, more than sure of himself, even in such a vulnerable position he had that forceful confidence that Barry… that Barry _adored._  And _fuck_ was he sexy, shorn hair, tattoos, muscles and smug expression, lying down in an obscene position like he was posing for a magazine.  Waiting for Barry to touch him. 

“I think I finally get the appeal of cradle robbing,” Len said with a smirk.

Barry grabbed the denim at the knees and tugged it off, Len had to arch his back a bit to help but the jeans came off quickly.  “The rule for that is eighteen years,” Barry told him, annoyed at the idea, “we’re at eleven.  You’re _not_ cradle robbing so if you say that again I’ll put on that Mariah Carey Christmas album when you’re sleeping.”

“Respect your elders, kid,” Len said, bracing himself up on his elbows to grin at Barry.  “Now weren’t you about to do something?”

Barry rolled his eyes, but his face dropped to Len’s groin.  They flirted weird; Barry decided he needed to work on that.  Barry stuck out his tongue, like he was mocking Len at first, and then licked a slow line through the material of the boxers from the top of Len’s shaft to his head.  He met Len’s gaze and could see that impressed, smug, turned-on grin on Len’s face.  That was Barry’s favorite expression.  Ever. 

Barry tugged Len’s boxers down to his knees quickly and his mouth placed a wide, filthy kiss on the base of Len’s cock.  Barry’s nose brushed on the dark hairs and his head was filled with the deep musk of another man, and it was s _o much better_ than the decay of bodies.   _So much better._  Living people, _living,_ breathing, moving Len, with his cock thrumming underneath Barry’s touch and his mouth gasping wordless encouragement as Barry kissed him lower and lower, letting his tongue press on the shaft as he did.

This was one way to get his fill of humanity.

He took Len in his mouth slowly, taking the head first with a slow suck, then another inch, and another and… Barry still wanted to measure Len.  He was guessing seven-ish hard?  It was a lot.  A fuck lot, even Shawna had said it- longer and even thicker than Barry but that wasn’t exactly an issue in Barry’s mind. 

Because, Barry figured, Len’s cock was also kind of _Barry’s_ in a very very very very inappropriate, not at all safe to say out loud, Barry would never confess he’d thought it, sort of way.  As long as they were together, as long as Barry and Len were calling each other boyfriends and Barry was the only one who was touching Len’s body; he was the only one Len would have sex with, the only one Len would open up to about his past.  And Len was only one Barry was going to open up to. 

The idea was possessive and weird; the thought of laying claim to another person was odd.  But, as he pressed gentle kisses on Len’s shaft and Len shivered beneath him, the idea was just… so… damn… right.  Barry hadn’t had someone he’d been in a relationship with for far too long because just the _idea_ of being that close with Len was sending blood straight to his groin.

Barry could get _almost_ all of Len’s cock in his mouth right away. Feeling the back of Len hitting right up against his throat Barry sucked low and hard, Len’s thighs trembling under his fingers, and slowly eased the rest of Len into his mouth so not to trigger his gag reflex. 

He pressed his palms comfortingly into Len’s quads then, _god_ he could feel Len’s pre-come at the back of his tongue, and then he glanced up at Len’s eyes.  And he vibrated his mouth.

Len immediately gave a low moan.  His hand reached out and settled into Barry’s hair, gripping but not pulling tight, and his breath started to come hard and fast.  Barry _loved_ that, loved the intermittent tightening of Len’s muscles, the way the cold and calculated man lost his control.  Barry sucked hard as his mouth shook, vibrating tongue painstakingly sliding as much as it could against Len’s shaft.

It was just too much. Barry had to slid his head back until only half of Len’s cock was in his mouth, and even that seemed to almost fill his throat up.  Barry had to remind himself to breath slowly out of his nostrils.  He gripped the bottom of Len’s shaft with his hand, stroking it as best he could, and concentrated his efforts sucking and vibrating on the part of the cock he could manage.

Soon Len’s hand gripped Barry’s hair tighter and he was gently tugging Barry away.  “I’m close,” Len mumbled low under his breath, “c’mon, let me touch you, Barry.”

Barry slid his mouth off of Len as Len’s hand guided him.  He took a deep breath and then wiped at his mouth with his hand while Len stared.  With a shrug of his shoulders, Barry cracked his jaw as the vibrating stopped. His mouth felt numb but Barry knew the feeling would go away in a few seconds.  

He pulled himself up to Len’s lap, elbows resting on Len’s shoulders and legs curling around Len’s waist.  “What do you have in mind?”  Barry asked with a smug grin.

Len’s hands slid up the sides of Barry’s stomach to his chest.  He leaned forward, pressing his drunk red lips against Barry’s sternum.  “Tell me what you want, anything,” he muttered and then his tongue swept roughly over Barry’s nipple and _god,_ weird, _really nice_ , just different and…

Barry bit his lip because he wanted to bite something but nothing else was really available.  Alright, if he could have anything he wanted… well, _sexually,_ what would it be?  Within Len’s ability as a man to do it, of course.  It wasn’t exactly the easiest question, especially not with Len’s hands gripping his cock tight and- _shit,_ Len’s teeth brushing ever so softly against Barry’s nipple. 

What did Barry want?  What did he want to do?  This was already great so it was hard to imagine something else to add to it. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Len asked, lifting his head to look at Barry smugly.  He shifted his hands to grip Barry’s ass tighter and then was moving back on the bed until they weren’t hanging over the edge.

“I mean that’s… that’s a, um, lofty offer,” Barry said, face flushing.  His skin seemed to burn everywhere they were touching but Len’s cold hands sent shivers down his spine.

“Not really,” Len dismissed with a shrug.  He kissed the side of Barry’s neck.  “We’re dating; you have free range to make demands.”

“Oh,” Barry said, because the idea hadn’t actually occurred to him. “I guess I…” His mind came up blank.  “I think I need awhile to decide.  Is there something you want?”  Barry asked the question before he remembered when Len had mentioned the costumes.  The parka and the uniform and… _Flash_ and _Cold._

At this point all the blood was going to rush into his head from blushing and the half boner he was already sporting would be pretty much dead. 

Len chuckled, his mouth moving up to run his tongue along Barry’s ear.   Barry shivered and Len grabbed Barry’s jaw firmly with his hand. His thumb brushed against Barry’s lip and his fingers curled over the other side of Barry’s face while Len’s teeth ghosted over Barry’s neck.  His voice was low and seductive as it hummed against Barry’s ear, “Remember last time we were here,” his thumb pushed Barry’s mouth open and Barry let him, “and you rode me so fast I came inside you?  It was like I was fucking lightning.   _God,_ you were beautiful.”

Barry kissed the pad of Len’s thumb but said, “Condoms are non-negotiable.”

 _“Positions,_ what I’m thinking of,” Len’s nose curled into the upper cartilage of Barry’s ear and his hot breath sent a shiver down Barry’s neck, “but _fuck_ there are so many ways I want to fuck you.” Barry’s hips rocked forward in response to that, he could feel Len’s cock pressed against the back of his thigh from this position, Barry could just barely get friction against Len’s stomach but it didn’t stop him from moving.   _“Hm,”_ Len hummed again and Barry could feel it, “I’m going to make you a _list._  Let you pick one next time.”

“We could just bang out the whole kama sutra,” Barry said with a chuckle.  It sounded like such a twenty-years married, suburban white couple thing to do once he said it aloud… and his face suddenly burned with embarrassment when he remembered he would probably be the receiver for most of it if they actually did that.

Len’s thumb pulled Barry’s lower lip down and the pad slipped over the top of Barry’s teeth.  “I’m sure I can think of even more inventive things to do with those powers of yours,” Len said slowly into Barry’s ear and it sounded like a promise.  “So if I get to pick tonight,” Len kissed his ear, “can I take you from behind?”

“Doggie style?” Barry clarified, and then was annoyed with himself because the way Len had said it was much sexier. 

Len kissed his jaw.  “Yes,” he breathed, the word drunkenly slow. 

Len’s breath smelled like hard cider and cherries.

It had been a long time since Barry had imagined himself in the submissive part of the doggie style, but… the idea sounded nice.  Len’s warm chest pressed into his back, hips on his back, Len’s mouth up against Barry’s ear....   _hm…_ “Yeah,” Barry nodded, “let me grab everything.”

“I’ll get it,” Len offered.  He gently stroked Barry’s cheek with his thumb and gave Barry a short, chaste kiss which, for some reason, sent shivers down the entirety of Barry’s body.

Len slipped out from under him, stepping off the mattress with shaking legs to open the drawer with their lubricants and condoms.  Barry took the moment to pull himself up on the bed, grabbing a pillow and punching it twice to fluff it out before setting it behind his head.  Len was leaning over to get supplies and…

 _Nice,_ Barry thought, eyes skidding over softly muscular legs, the tight tone of Len’s back and the heavy curvature of Len’s back muscles.  When Len turned around, holding the lubricant and a condom in his hand, Barry’s eyes skimmed Len from top to bottom with approval.  He really, really loved Len’s body. 

“So,” Barry said, mouth suddenly dry.

Len stared at him intently as he crawled forward on the bed.  His hands slid slowly up Barry’s thighs.  “This won’t take too long,” Len said casually.  He dripped the lubricant over his fingers excessively and then pressed them against Barry’s ass.  His fingers slowly swooped over the tight, eager ring of muscles there.  “We did this yesterday.”

Barry wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about that.  But then the first lubed up finger was slipping inside him slowly, an uncomfortably familiar gesture now as Len’s digit eased through the tight ring up muscle.  He could feel Len’s finger slowly start to curve- and then Len was pulling it out, getting more lubricant onto his finger before he put it back in. 

Barry closed his eyes, resting the back of his head on the pillow as he relaxed into the feeling.  It wasn’t long before Len had two fingers inside him and he was teasingly pushing against the sensitive prostate gland.   _Fuck,_ Barry arched into the fingers.

“You look very handsome right now,” Len said as his ring finger was slowly easing up to meet the others. 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” Barry mumbled.

Len pushed three fingers into him and Barry had trouble breathing for a moment.  “I’m not,” Len told Barry softly, his voice low and calm, “You look _good.”_  He kissed the inside of Barry’s thigh as his fingers spread through the muscles there with ease. 

Barry stifled a moan as Len’s fingers slipped out.  “Ah, um,” he said carefully, taking a deep breath, “the abs came with the powers.”

Len chuckled.  His hands gripped the side of Barry’s thigh, giving him a comforting squeeze, and he kissed Barry’s leg again before pulling himself up.  Len stroked his own cock slowly with the lubricated hand- _fuck,_ Barry couldn’t get over how beautiful Len was, especially with the drunk red lips and flushed cock, the way his motions were smooth and slow and his mouth had a contented grin.  Barry sat up and grabbed the condom, tearing it open.  Len moved his hands aside when Barry reached out to slide the condom down over the other man’s cock.

And then Len was rubbing the lubricant over the latex and nudging the outside of Barry’s thigh with his free hand.

Heart pounding, Barry slowly turned himself over.  He braced himself with his hands locked on the sides of the pillow, knees holding him up and his back was only in the air for a moment before he could feel Len’s hands grabbing him tightly.  Len’s fingers pushed the muscle of Barry’s ass apart, and for an embarrassing moment Barry was sitting, back arched, as Len’s eyes gazed straight into the most personal parts of his body.

Then Barry could feel Len’s lips press against his thigh as the man pushed Barry’s knees apart.  Len gave Barry’s cock a short, single stroke and then the top of Len’s thighs pressed against the back of Barry’s, his hip bones touching Barry’s back.  He could feel Len’s finger sliding around the rim of his ass and Barry groaned.

“Come _on,”_ Barry said, annoyed and eager, feeling goosebumps all over his skin from the anticipation.  “Let’s _go,_ Len.”

He somehow knew when it was the head of Len’s cock circling around him and not fingers, and Barry arched his back again, grinding his ass against Len’s hips because he needed Len inside of him _now._  

When Len pushed into him it felt like a puzzle piece slotting together; Barry’s body remembered the feeling from just over a day ago, remembered what Len felt like spreading him open, pulling deep inside- and so it only felt _good._  Barry felt like Len was meant to be inside of him.  Each aggravatingly slow thrust forward of Len’s hips sent warm jolts of pleasure to his lower stomach; _damn_ -

Barry had thought something earlier in the evening about Len being his anchor.  The idea felt so real right now, as Len shook and gasped above him, pushing into Barry fully and not being able to wait a moment before he slid back a few inches and then thrust forward into Barry again.  Gentle, slow… Len was this steadily moving force, something Barry could cling to for a grip of reality and _real-_ ness _._  He was an anchor to the humanity that was so hard to reach now, with people scattered across a world filled with cannibals and cults and the undead.

Barry wanted to go _slow_ for the first time.  His head dropped between his arms, eyes squeezed shut as his entire body was focused on that feeling.  Len’s hands dug into Barry’s hips, Len’s body flush and warm against Barry’s back, making him feel even more connected to the other man.  He rocked slowly back as Len’s thrust forward, a soft motion that forced slow, deep gasps from his mouth.

Len’s cock knew where to go, like Len had the angle memorized by now (granted, Len probably _did)._  Each long thrust forward hit Barry’s  prostate directly and then _pushed_ against it, sliding up along that enormously sensitive part of him so slowly and sweetly it brought tears to Barry’s eyes.

Len’s mouth pressed soft kisses on the top of Barry’s spine. _I need you_ , Barry thought, his mouth falling open as low gasps and moans, whispers of _fuck, Len_ , passed through his throat without him noticing.  Len kept up a steady stream of pleasure, endless patience and strength as his fingers pressed hard bruises against the bones of Barry’s hips.  He never pulled out fully, hips sliding out just enough to give Barry a moment’s relief and then they would be back, a slow burn of pleasure into Barry’s mind. 

Barry had no idea how long they did that, working up a gentle sweat, Len’s sweet kisses into Barry’s head and slow fucks throwing Barry into a state of near meditation.  He didn’t want it to end, it hadn’t been long enough, and then in an instant it was an eternity.  His cock wept to be touched and Barry grabbed himself, stroking slowly, and managed to gasp out an urgent, _“Faster,”_ to Len.

And _fuck,_ Len thrust into him so hard it was like he’d been waiting for the command.  His palms jerked Barry’s hip back into him as his cock slammed inside Barry, it was suddenly fast and rough, a desperate push deeper and deeper inside of Barry.  Len moaned against Barry’s back, his voice low and full of everything Len _was._

Barry couldn’t last under that pressure for long; he was spilling out onto his hands before he knew what was happening.  Literal electricity trembled out of his wrists and fingers as Barry came with a sharp intake of breath.  He felt his body tensing, heard Len’s gasp of pleasure, and then there was a _beautifully_ sharp release of all the tension in his body, a feeling of pure energy jolting from his groin to his brain.

And Barry felt weak, everything felt hot and too much.  His elbows trembled with the force of holding his body up. 

Len still beat a steady pace into him, gasping murmurs of encouragement against Barry’s back, and it was wretchedly intense.  The waves of pleasure feeling like almost torturously good as Len kept fucking him, solid, harsh strokes into Barry until then- Len bit the back of Barry’s shoulder, and the other man’s body shook over Barry.  His hands holding Barry tight into him, a sharp jerk of Len’s hips as he came.

Len breathed out the tension like a promise, a soft gasp against Barry’s back.  The man pressed an apologetic kiss on the bite mark he’d made on Barry’s skin. 

When Len pulled out of him Barry had a moment where he thought it felt weird not to have Len inside of him.  Barry dropped to the bed with a huff, arms folding in front of him as a pillow.  “Hm,” Barry mumbled contentedly.

Len’s body disappeared from the bed for a short moment, and then he was back, pulling up the blanket over their chests and sliding a damp cloth between Barry’s legs.  He kissed Barry’s shoulder again.  “Good?” Len asked, his voice raw.

“A plus,” Barry mumbled into his hands, not feeling strong enough to move his heavy limbs.  Every part of his body felt warm, tingling, and content.  Len slid up against Barry’s side and lay his arm across Barry’s back.  “Five stars.  Would do again.”

Len chuckled against Barry’s arm, nose pushed against Barry’s skin.   _He is such a cuddler_ , Barry thought with a grin.  Len let out a short huff of hot breath against Barry’s skin.  “I’m definitely going to make you a list,” Len said softly, “diagrams, blueprints, get some large detailed plans for you to read when you’re lonely and thinking about me.”

Barry shifted a bit so his back was against Len’s chest and he could pull Len’s arm under his head, using Len’s bicep like a pillow in the same comfortable position they’d slept last night.  His voice ringing with teasing disbelief, Barry sighed with exhaustion, sleep calling at his eyelids, “As if you’d ever leave me alone.”

Len pulled Barry tight against him.  “I won’t,” he promised into Barry’s ear.

Barry fell asleep only seconds after that.

* * *

He woke up for a minute or so when Mark Mardon came back and started playing the _Stranglers_ record at a low volume, but Len’s soft, snoring grumble in Barry’s ear called him back to sleep soon after.

* * *

It took the third playthrough of the Frank Sinatra album for Lisa and Barry to start singing to it.  

Mick Rory was passively ignoring them, sitting up in the shotgun seat by Len as the pyromaniac flipped through a porn novel, Shawna giggled while Mark Mardon seethed as the couple sat on the masterbed, watching, and Hartley was sitting on the edge of the couch looking like he wanted to join in but couldn’t for some reason.  
It was impossible to tell what Leonard thought about it, the man seemed fixated on driving the RV, but, Barry thought as he raised his hand up to let Lisa twirl underneath him, Len had to be happy to see Barry and Lisa finally getting along.

“Fill my heart with song,” Barry crooned as Lisa dramatically pirouetted, grabbing onto Barry’s shirt for support when the RV jerked, “and let me _sing_ forever more.”

“You,” Lisa jumped in, grabbing Barry by the hips and pulling him into some horrible parody of a two-step, “are all I long for,” she turned, dipping herself against Barry’s chest, “all I worship… and adore.”  Gracefully, she swung back, grabbing Barry’s arms and guiding him to swing against her hips.  The loud sound of jazz and Frank Sinatra’s voice egged them on, Shawna yelling at Barry to twirl Lisa again as she laughed.

Was this the best morning or what?

“In other _words,”_ Barry sang, grinning broadly and following Lisa’s steps.  She twirled in his arms with perfect balance even in the swinging, rocking RV.  Barry wondered if Lisa had been a dancer before she joined her life of crime.  “Please be true,” Barry matched the dips of Frank Sinatra’s voice.

“In _other words_ ,” Lisa said, raspy and soprano, as she dramatically blew Barry a kiss, “I… love… you.”

 _“Fill_ my heart with song,” Barry added with another twirl as Lisa laughed loudly.  Hartley was humming along to it, and Shawna just jumped to her feet, reaching out for Hartley’s hand-

The RV rattled to a slow stop, and suddenly the crackling noise of the music player seemed to fade into the background.  

“Why… why did we stop?” Lisa said, pushing out of Barry’s arms as the smile instantly left her face.

That breathless feeling of happiness was gone too quickly, just a fleeting, pleasant morning where worry had disappeared and then reality came back with its damning horror. Hartley’s hand moved to the record player, lifting the arm up until the jazz music and infectious voice of the singer was replaced with pure silence.

“Car up ahead,” Len said.  He pulled the RV into park and grabbed for his holster, unbuckling his gun with a swift practiced motion.  “They just stopped and put on their hazard lights.”

Barry, Lisa, Hartley, and Shawna stepped forward to the front of the car, with Mark Mardon peering behind them, still too weak to stand without pain.  Mick Rory set his book down, picking up his heat gun from the dashboard.

Barry’s arm brushed against Len’s when he stepped next to the man, crouching at the front of the RV to get a look.  There was a minivan in front of them, black and scratched to hell, parked about two hundred yards away as its yellow lights flashed gently over the light layers of snow that still covered the highway.  “What do you think it is?”

“Could be raiders,” Lisa offered, “At the Fryoak Trading Post someone was telling me the raiders all do this trick. They sent out a car in distress as bait and when the victims leave their cover to go help whoever is there the rest of the raiders take all their supplies.  Raiders leave the people in the cold if they’re lucky, kill them outright if they’re even more lucky, and other times… well…” She let the rest of the sentence hang in the air without an answer.

Shawna shivered and Hartley reached out automatically to hold her hand.

“If we keep driving and there are raiders lying in wait behind us they may start shooting,” Len said carefully, “but if we stop and walk into their trap they will definitely start shooting when we defend our supplies.”

“And if they’re just people in need of help?” Barry asked.

“That’s a big risk,” Hartley reminded Barry.

Barry frowned.  “The point is we don’t _know_ who they are.”

“We haven’t seen anyone on the highway for 200 miles,” Lisa told the group, “no one else has been driving with the snow on the road.”

“Everyone _else_ has been staying indoors with a warm _fire,”_ Mick Rory grumbled unhappily.

“Hartley, Mark and I tried that,” Shawna said, pissed, “we nearly starved to death.”

 _“Focus,”_ Len urged the group, his eyes never leaving the minivan in front of them.  “We need to figure out the best course of action here.”

“Attack first,” Hartley said immediately.

Barry glared at him.  “And _what if they’re innocent people in need of help?_ ” He repeated.

“Minimilize risk,” Hartley defended, “ _what if_ they’re raiders.”

“Then we’d just be _starting_ the fight, they’d still come after us,” Barry argued.

Lisa shrugged.  “It gives us the element of surprise.  I, for one, am willing to do anything to keep from getting kidnapped by a raider gang.”  Her tone and the steely look in her eye made it clear she was serious.

“We’re just going to start shooting at every other group of survivors we see?” Barry looked at Lisa and then Hartley and said angrily, “Doesn’t that make _us_ raiders?”  Lisa’s fists clenched and she bit her lip, turning away from Barry’s gaze.

“The lifestyle does seem to have its perks,” Len said with a shrug.

Barry glared at Len, his hand reaching out to grip Len’s arm tightly.  He opened his mouth to say something, some sort of defense or argument-

“But, Rogues Code, stealing from anyone in this sort of scenario would surely kill them,” Len added.  He reached out and placed his other hand over Barry’s.  His gaze hadn’t left the car in front of them and he apparently misunderstood the gesture as Barry being worried about an attack.  

“Rogues’ Code?” Barry frowned, confused.  He glanced at Lisa.

It was Mick Rory who answered.  “Don’t kill innocent men, never kill women and children.  Also no drugs, which will always be fucking annoying,” Mick Rory explained with a glance at Len.

“You should be on anti-psychotics, certainly not opioids,” Len said to Mick Rory with a tone that seemed to indicate they’d had this conversation plenty of times before, “you should thank me for reigning you in.”  Mick Rory just shrugged, turning his attention back to the car.  There was still no movement from the other vehicle, just the flashing of lights.

“Alright, let me do something,” Len said.  He leaned over past Barry to reach over by the radio, and then after a short search of the buttons he pressed on the hazard lights.  Now both cars were sitting.  Whatever signal the hazard lights meant, Len had returned it.

 _Rogues’ Code,_ Barry thought as a slow grin crossed his face.  He glanced down at his hand on Len’s and the other man’s muscle beneath Barry’s grip felt intensely calming.  Barry hadn’t known about the ‘Rogues’ Code’ and the idea that Len had a set rule of morality for everyone under his leadership… it eased some misgivings in Barry’s mind.

“Everyone should suit up,” Len said.  

Len was already dressed, minus the parka.  He had been up earlier than everyone else and started driving.  The rest of the Rogues and Barry had woken up when Mick Rory started making the coffee and the morning had devolved into a karaoke session that suddenly felt like it had taken place a hundred years ago.  

Barry shoved his way past Hartley and pivoted past Lisa, and then he blurred to the back of the car.  The lightning crinkled at the balls of his feet as he turned away from Mark Mardon, and Barry grabbed at his suit which was stuffed into one of the drawers beside the bed.  The uniform was on him in a flash and then Barry was back, crouching in the front seat beside Len as the momentary crackle of wind rushed passed his ears.  

Everyone else was just starting to walk to the back of the RV to get their clothes.  

“Should we scout behind us if there are raiders?  Or maybe leave everyone in the RV and have two people go up to the minivan and see what they want?” Barry suggested.  
Len rubbed his chin as he thought.  It was impressive the way Len’s gaze fixed on the car in front of them and didn’t move for anything.  “I don’t know what they’re waiting for.  If they’re predatory they’re showing a lot of patience,” Len told him.

“Again, they could be innocent.  Just as scared of us as we are of them?” Barry offered.

“I’m not scared of any other groups out here,” Len said in a matter-of-fact tone, “we’re stronger than just about anything.”  

“Yeah,” Barry agreed.  He squeezed Len’s shoulder comfortingly.

 _Last night was amazing,_ Barry’s mind suddenly thought, unbidden and unwelcome at the current situation.  Barry blushed and he pulled his hand off Len.  Was this why people went on honeymoons?  Barry felt like he was practically in heat; everytime he was near Len his skin would practically start vibrating in anticipation.  He wanted Len around him all the time, couldn’t stop thinking about Len’s mouth, Len’s shoulders, Len’s cock and-

 _Concentrate,_ Barry shouted in his head.  He rubbed his temples in annoyance.  

“Any change?” Lisa asked; she was the first to have finished changing.  Lisa made her way up to the front of the seat, sitting in the chair Mick Rory recently abandoned.  

“No,” Len told her.  He took his eyes off the minivan for one instant to glance at Lisa and then his focus was back on the danger in front of them.    
“I think the three of us should go talk to them,” Len decided suddenly.

Lisa’s eyes widened.  “What?” She said, confused and… an emotion Barry wasn’t sure of.  Maybe scared, nervous, pissed…?

“Everyone else holds up the fort here; it leaves us three well armed and healthy people protecting the supplies and one half-dead, but still metahuman, person.  If the van is full of innocents,” Len said, slowly raising himself to a standing position with his eyes still on the car in front of them, “than the three of us together make a nicer picture than any other combination of the group.  One look at Mick’s scars or Mardon’s injuries and they’re liable to, as Barry said, think that we are raiders.”

Lisa swallowed.  “Alright,” she said.

Barry slowly backed up, realizing he should probably have some sort of weapon.  He glanced to the kitchen, walking past Mick who was putting on his jacket and Hartley who was still fiddling with his sound technology, and pulled open one of the drawers to grab a steak knife.  He felt a hand on his back and Barry looked over his shoulder to see Mick stopping him.  “That’s useless,” Mick said gruffly as he gestured to the kitchen knife in Barry’s hand.  The pyromaniac reached down into his boot and pulled unclipped a holster from his ankle.  He pulled it out, the holster obviously holding a large hunting knife.  “Take this, I’ve got plenty,” Mick offered.

“Thanks,” Barry said gratefully.  He bent down to clip the holster over his ankle and… saw rather instantly that he wasn’t going to be able to shorten the strap anymore to make it fit.  He lengthened the strap a few inches and then clipped it over his thigh.

“Can’t let my best guy’s man go unarmed, you know,” Mick said awkwardly.  The pyromaniac looked at his feet as he shuffled back to grab his coat.  “E’en if Len’s a dick sometimes.”

“He definitely can be,” Barry said with a grin.

Mick looked at Barry, serious and wide-eyed, and then turned his back to Barry to finish pulling on his coat.  

“Done gossiping?” Leonard asked, walking to the door and setting his gloved hand on the handle.

“Oh,” Lisa jumped in before Barry could answer, _“please,_ we could do some much better in terms of gossiping about you, Lenny.”

Len didn’t acknowledge that.  “Shawna, I want you to get outside and jump onto the top of the RV, keep a sharp eye behind us.  Hartley will stand by the door and guard. Everyone else,” meaning Mick Rory and Mark Mardon, “stays inside the RV unless they start hearing gunshots.”

Barry saluted just as Shawna and Hartley said, almost in unison, “Aye aye, Captain.”

Len raised an eyebrow, frowning at the three of them, and then he opened the door and stepped outside.  Lisa was right behind Len, but Barry skirted past her at superspeed and followed Len out the door immediately.  

“Watch it,” Len said as the man jumped into the snow and felt Barry bumping against his back, “keep the super powers to a minimum until we see what we’re facing.”  

Barry glanced down at his uniform.  “Should I… put on the running jacket then?” He asked.

“No, just don’t make it obvious.”

Barry wasn’t sure how much obvious a skintight, leather suit with lightning bolts on it could be but he shrugged and accepted it.  The snow let out a low howl over the frozen highway, sending waves of snow piles across the cement so that in some places the snow was piled up three feet high and in others it was just a dusting over the gravel.  

With Lisa close behind Barry, and Barry following Len as tightly as he dared, they walked forward, skirting around the larger snowbanks.  The other two were holding their guns at the ready and Barry steeled the muscles in his legs, ready to run at a moments notice.  The sun was bright, and, though the air was cold enough that Barry’s exhales looked like smoke, there was still the warm bath of the light on his shoulders.

The minivan continued its steady basking of yellow hazard lights, an ominous pulse that reflected over the snow and grew brighter the closer they got.

When they were halfway to the minivan an extremely close breeze of wind suddenly howled out of the trees, sending harsh chills across Barry’s skin.  He grabbed the back of Len’s parka, stepping close enough into the other man that he could feel just a bit of the warmth, and Barry felt Lisa pushing up against Barry’s back too.  “Fuck the Weather Wizard,” Lisa muttered against Barry’s back.  Barry nodded, agreeing with her sentiment.  They both knew Mark Mardon wasn’t controlling the winter anymore, what was happening was just the natural transition of deep winter into spring (save the remaining blizzard conditions of snow on the ground and the damage from the unnatural cold), but it was still nice to place the blame on the meta-human, even jokingly.

When they were only about fifty yards from the minivan, Barry let go of Len’s coat and stepped away from the other man and Lisa, in turn, stepped back from Barry.  Her hand tightened on the gold gun as Barry’s skin tingled with anticipatory electricity.  Barry’s eyes were focused on Len, ready to grab the man and run if Barry heard a gunshot.  

The closer they got to the minivan the larger it seemed to be, the deeper the gouges in the side.  The van looked like it had been pummeled, there were scratches in the paint as if caused from human nails, and overall it seemed like whoever it was had driven it through a zombie hoard.  Likely that _was_ the case.

When they could see the shape of a man sitting in the driver’s seat, Len raised his gun level to the shadowy figure’s head and stopped.  

The minivan window slowly rolled down.  The man sitting in the driver’s seat looked like he was only thirty years old but had recently started to age rapidly, the rings of sleep around his eyes were as dark as bruises and his lips chapped and bloody.  He was holding a small pistol in his hands, aiming it to the three of them haphazardly.  

Next to him in the other seat was a young woman, probably still in her teens, with a sour expression and a dead look in her eye.  She held hatchet across her chest and stared passively at them.

“Only the two of us,” the man said, his voice a painful rasp, “we don’t have much in way of supplies.”

“We’re not looking to take anything,” Len assured him.  He didn’t lower his gun and neither did the other man.

The man in the minivan glanced at Barry momentarily.  “That one of those freaks that can do crazy shit?” He asked, voice cracking from disuse.

“You’ve seen a lot of them?” Len asked, not answering the man’s question.

“Yeah, figure it’s a survival of the fittest sort of thing.  Most people gotta be magical to make it through this crap,” the man said with a shrug.  He coughed into his hand, a painful wheeze that seemed to shake his whole body.  “You goin’ up to Illinois?”

“Yep,” Len told him.

“You one of those cults?” The man asked, “You got lots of ladies in that van of yours?”

“No,” Len said instantly.  He looked at the young woman sitting in the minivan with the man and then asked, “Is that your daughter?”

“Niece,” the young woman corrected.  Her voice was tired but she wasn’t nearly in as bad shape as the man.  “I’m Vanessa, this is my uncle Carl.”

Carl had another long cough.  He dropped his pistol to the side for a moment as his body shook from the pressure and then turned back, raising it, though it was clear he wasn’t in any shape to fight.  “We’re goin’ to our family’s cabin.  My sister is there,” Carl wheezed, “you planning to let us by?  We don’t have nothin’ for you to take.”

“As I said, we don’t want anything of yours.  This is my sister,” Len said to assure the man, offering up the personal information as he gestured for Lisa to lower her gun.  Len didn’t lower his, however.  “And my boyfriend.  We’re heading to Illinois to find the rest of our friends.  What can you tell us about the roads up ahead?”

“What can _you_ tell us about the roads back there?” Vanessa jumped in, leaning forward and frowning at Len.  

“Couple miles back, exit 20 stop, there’s a cult that you should avoid.  Guy named Clifford DeVoe is in charge of them.  If you come across a roadblock about a hundred yards back in the highway, be careful.  There are raiders and monsters lurking along the sideroads so we’ve found it best to stick to the main highways.  Depending on how far you go your radio might start picking up a signal from Fryoak Trading Post; it’s safe so if you need supplies I recommend stopping.  Also,” Len said, his expression concentrated and hard even as he was giving the group much needed help, “we came across a Whole Foods, exit 19.  It’s not far at all from here.  We cleared out all the zombies and only took what we could carry.  If you need water, food, or any other supplies you should stop there.”

The relief on Carl and Vanessa’s face was instantaneous.  

“Thank you,” Vanessa said deeply.

Barry stepped closer to Len, his arm brushing against Len’s side.

“That’s very kind of you,” Carl rasped, “most people wouldn’t bother at all.”

“We’re big damn heroes,” Lisa said with a grin.  She raised her arms, with the gun, and cracked her arms.  “We’re the _good guys._ ”

Carl looked at her with a question in his eyes.  His gaze traveled across the three of them for long enough that the wind howling behind them sent more shivers down Barry’s back and Barry was close to giving up and running back to the van to get warm.  Finally, he spoke, “There’s a huge hoard heading down this highway.  We were going to make a stop at Central City, see if we could find any military to protect us, and then had to turn back when we saw them.  Right at the boarder of the state is a rest stop, one of those nice big, _Welcome to Illinois_ places; inside is a group of really good folk.  They gave us supplies and a place to sleep when we passed through, but when we tried to warn them they refused to leave.  The hoard will reach them in a day or two.  They’re stubborn but they don’t deserve to die.”

There was some weird radio signal in Barry’s ear and he shook his head to get rid of it.  It was too quiet and faded to make out anything was the vague sound of a person's voice mumbling inaudible words. Sometimes his earpiece picked up snippets of the radio, though the voice didn’t sound like Hal Jordan.  He dismissed it, figuring it wasn’t important.

Len tilted his head, frowning at the man.  “Why tell us this?”

“If you’re heroes, maybe you can convince them to leave.  If not, I recommend finding some place to hide when the hoard comes through.  Those damn monsters can tell when people are in a building, you know, sometimes they're like a fucking army of soldiers.”  Carl dropped his pistol to his side then and turned the key in the ignition, starting his van.  “Thanks for the advice.”

“You as well,” Len told him, stepping back out of the way as the minivan headed down its path.  


	18. 90 Miles from Central City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: zombies mention

90 Miles from Central City

Barry didn’t mean to hover around Len, obviously the man could _walk_ by himself, but there was something about the possibility of danger ahead that made Barry want to grab Len’s parka and force him back to safety.

They were casing the outside of the rest stop; it was a large building, housing two coffee shops, a Cinnabon, four fast food restaurants, a gift shop, and a tourist center according to the sign out front.  There was a large gas station with space for trucks beside it, and a sole Coca-Cola truck stood like a monument right in the center of the empty parking lot.    
Their RV was parked just outside of eyesight of anyone in the building and suitably pulled off the side of the highway and given a small lean-to of ice overhead via the cold gun to prevent it from being seen by the road.  

Shawna Baez and Mick Rory had been sent up ahead, Mick’s heat gun warming the two of them as Shawna jumped from cover to cover.  They were well supplied and weren’t going to return until they either found the hoard of zombies (figuring out how far away the threat really was) or Shawna grew exhausted.  

Mark Mardon was guarding the RV, still angry and yet complacent, knowing he wasn’t strong enough to get into a real fight until his body healed.  

Len split the remaining group up into two; Lisa and Hartley were casing the rest stop from the north and Len and Barry approached from the south. _‘Stealth is the objective,’_ Len had ordered, _‘we find out what we’re dealing with.  Just because we were told they were friendly doesn’t mean they are.’_

They had reached the side of the building by the garbage cans now, Len walking slowly forward toward an employee exit.  Barry was practically stepping on Len’s heels.

Is this why superheroes in co _mic books always dated regular people?  Because Barry was_ massively distracted.  Every little creek of wood under Len’s feet made Barry’s nerves crawl and he kept forcing himself to hold back the instincts telling him _get Len the fuck out of here_.

“I can hear you thinking,” Len said with an annoyed tone.  He pressed something on his gun and the machinery whirred, and then Len was stepping to the side of the building, walking slowly with his eyes fixed on the door.

“You’re not a mind reader,” Barry said, stepping carefully onto the wooden porch. _I’d feel a little better if you were though.  Or any type of meta-human._  He glanced down at his feet just for a moment and when he looked up Len was already reaching for the handle.

In a flash, Barry was right beside him.  

Len’s hands froze and he turned to Barry.   _“Stop,”_ Len ordered.

“I…” Barry blushed but then he steeled his hands at his sides.  “I’m watching your back.”

“You don’t need to _climb on me_ to give me cover,” Len argued.  The man reached up, grabbing his goggles and pulling them off his face so the strap hung on his neck.  He looked at Barry sternly with his dark brown eyes. “If you can’t handle this you can go find Hartley and Lisa.”

_Ouch._  “I can handle it,” Barry said angrily, “you have no idea what I can handle.  I stopped a woman from blowing up all of Central City, I’ve _run back in time_ , and-”

“I _get_ it, you’re worried about me, not you,” Len said, perceptive, but his tone was harsh, “but I can handle myself too, Barry, but I _can’t_ if you keep treating me like a dog on a leash.”

Barry stepped back immediately.  He didn’t want to, as soon as he did his mind started playing the differences in femtoseconds it would take for him to be able to stop a bullet from reaching Len’s head, or a walker from surging forward to bite, or… or all sorts of disasters.  Nervous, Barry rubbed his temples.

Len grabbed the metal of the door with his gloved hand.  When it didn’t open, Len dropped to his knees and reached into his boot.  He pulled out a worn, leather wallet from his sock and then opened it, revealing a set of lockpicking tools.  With practiced ease, Len started working on getting the door to open.  

And _ugh,_ there it was again.  Barry’s earpiece picking up a low, hardly audible grumble of a voice speaking.  He shook his head and turned the sound off.  In a moment though, the earpiece clicked itself back on without Barry touching it.  

Angrily, Barry grabbed the hood of his uniform and pulled it off.  He did not want to have to deal with malfunctioning electronic equipment while he was trying to keep an eye on Len; Barry made a mental note to ask Hartley to look at it later.

“What are we hoping to find in there?” Barry asked.

Len was still doing something with the door, Barry didn’t know what it was.  It seemed complicated, two long, thin pieces of metal sticking into the lock while Len stuck his ear against the side of the door and moved them slowly. Leonard Snart was the master thief after all.

“Ideally, no one and whatever group was here left and we can find a map that gives us a good idea of the roads in this area so we can hide the RV and wait for the hoard to pass.”

Barry heard something click and stepped forward thinking the door was open, but Len wasn’t moving so Barry realized he’d been preemptive.  He stood still, crossing his arms and watching.  “And if there are people there, Mick and Shawna can tell them how far away the hoard is?”  

“It will be good for us to know too.  We need to get the timing right.”  Then Len was pulling his tools out of the door, opening it slowly with his hands, and sliding his lockpicking tools back into his sock.  Len stood up, pulling his gun to his side, and walked into the building with his weapon level to his eyes.

Barry didn’t notice he’d grabbed onto the back of Len’s coat, his body thrumming with energy ready to pull the man away and run, until Len reached behind his back to swat Barry’s hands away.  “Sorry,” Barry said awkwardly.  He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands now so he curled them into fists at his sides.  

Len walked into the building and Barry followed.  

They were in the storage room of a fast food restaurant, there were shelves around them stocked with the names of different kitchen supplies and foods, giving off a rotten smell.  Everything was cold, a lack of heating, but the metal floor and shelves seemed to make the room feel like stepping into a freezer.  As Barry stepped forward his foot stepped on a crinkled piece of paper.  He glanced at it, a coupon for the restaurant they were in.  “Hey, we’re in Arby’s,” Barry told Len.

Len was already to the other end of the room, holding open the storage door.  He turned behind him and raised his eyebrow as he looked at Barry.  “And?”

“It’s just… I don’t know, interesting?” Barry said, rubbing his arm awkwardly.  

“I guess,” Len said, confused.  They looked at each other for a moment, neither sure what to say after that.

“So,” Barry gestured to the door.

“Yes,” Len said gratefully.  He raised his gun to eye level again and walked forward, looking not unlike a SWAT officer on a mission.  

Barry followed Len carefully, giving Len as much space as he dared but still following the other man as close as possible.  His heartbeat sped up when Len disappeared through the door, for the half a second it took Barry to follow him, and then they were walking past several stoves and a counter and in a long, wide, mall highway.  To the right was a food court, chairs and tables set up with several other fast food restaurants encompassing that hubble of seats in a circle.  Over to the left, down the wide open hallway and high ceilings, was the entrance and a long, clear glass door with a sign over it announcing a tourist area.

Barry bumped his elbow into Len’s side to get Len to turn to him. “There’s no one here,” Barry said, just as they heard footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Barry grabbed the hunting knife from its holster on his thigh as he dropped to the ground, one hand braced on the floor and his legs ready to run.  Len, tense and calculated, stood with a wide stance next to him, holding the gun slightly ajar of the angle Barry was facing.

Lisa and Hartley stepped around the corner, the source of the noise.  Hartley waved.

Barry slowly stood up while Len put his gun back in the holster.  “So,” Len said, “anything on your side?”

“The place is completely empty,” Lisa told him as she and Hartley walked over to meet them, “it’s obviously been looted to hell, not a single item we could possibly use is on the shelf.”

“We came through the bathroom,” Hartley told them with a grimace, “it was not pretty.  There were definitely people living here at one point but we haven’t come across anything like a blanket or bed to indicate they’re still here.”

“Not many places a person could hide here, is there?” Barry guessed.  “I can speed through; do a quick check of all the rooms-”

Len interrupted before Barry could finish.  “No, we go in groups. You’re not checking anything out alone.”

_Ha!_ Barry wasn’t the _only one_ who was being overprotective.

“There isn’t anything here we can take,” Lisa said, shifting her feet, “I think we should just go back to the RV and wait for Shawna and Mick.”

Len nodded.  “We should check to see if the tourist center has any maps before we leave,” he decided, striding off where Hartley and Lisa had come without another word.  Barry jumped up to follow him, still dogging at Len’s heels, while the other two walked behind.  Barry glanced back for just a moment, noticing how Lisa was walking backwards with her weapon carefully trained at their backs.  

Len and Lisa had this everything down, they were covert, prepared, and seamlessly working together to defend each other.  They were complimentary.  

Barry wasn’t sure what type of a team he and Len made.  Barry was a speedster, and Len wasn’t even a metahuman.  Len’s cold gun exploited Barry’s biggest weakness.  Barry had never been good at shooting guns and Len was a crackshot.  Len was a schemer, a master-planner, and Barry barreled into situations headfirst.  

No wonder they were both nervous.  Barry didn’t understand Len’s fighting style any more than Len could keep up with Barry’s.

Len pushed open the door of the tourist center slowly with his foot.  Barry walked inside, noting the pamphlets announcing Illinois based tourist attractions, local restaurants, and city sights.  “So I guess there might be maps over here?” Barry asked, kneeling down and sifting through the short papers.  He picked up a short paper advertising a pizza chain that Barry’d tried once and had hated.  

_Wow,_ Barry thought.  As he looked at the pamphlet the memory of ordering the pizza came back.  He was sixteen- seventeen? He and Iris were home alone with one of Iris’ friends from school; they wanted to order pizza but couldn’t use the pizza place they regularly used because Joe knew the owner and Joe had insisted they eat leftovers that night.  They’d ordered this pizza and it had just been… well, subpar.  Not much of a story too it.  

Still, it was a memory.  A lame, boring, but intensely _non_ -apocalyptic memory.  Barry folded the pamphlet and stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans.  

Under his bed Barry had a small box where he’d left his wallet and the photographs of his friends and family, Barry made a mental note to stick this pamphlet there as well.  Maybe he should just start a collection of all the little things that reminded him of home.

Len was at the center of the room, looking at a large, Illinois map on display.  It was protected by a plane of glass and set up in the center of the room with ‘You are Here!’ written on the glass display with red paint.  “This works,” Len decided.

“And what are you going-” Barry started to say.

Len raised the cold gun level with the glass.  He shot the gun, a crackling stream of ice streaming from the whirring machine.  The glass turned blue and brittle, giving off a light waft of steam.  Len took a short step back, clenched his fist, and then punched.  The glass shattered to the floor in pieces.

_Impressive,_ Barry thought. His eyes trailing over Len's jeans, he stood up and clapped.

Len gave Barry a smug grin.  “Like that?”

“Very badass,” Barry acknowledged.  

“Calm down, you two,” Lisa said as she walked into the room, “save it for your private time.  Let’s get that map and head out of here.”

Len pulled the four thumbtacks out of the corners of the display map, and then he carefully folded it and tucked it into a pocket inside his parka.  “Honestly, sis, I’d say you were jealous.”

“That for the first time ever, you have any sort of luck in love and I don’t?” Lisa shrugged, and said smugly, “It was _about time_ , Lenny.”

“Let’s not get into that,” Len frowned at her.

“Although, I am not surprised society as we knew it had to _collapse_ before you found a steady boyfriend,” Lisa teased.

Barry made a mental note to ask Lisa exactly what she knew about Len's former love life the next time they were alone.

Len rolled his eyes, walking past her into the main hallway.  As they stepped back onto the polished, dusty floor, Len looked slowly around their surroundings.  “Hartley?” Len said loudly with a tone of warning.

“He was right behind me,” Lisa insisted.  She walked into the center of the hallway, leading with her gun as she looked, wide-eyed, for any sign of Hartley.

Barry was holding onto Len’s sleeve again, he hadn’t noticed his hand reaching out to grab for the other man until he did.  Len glanced behind them where they had come and then, seeing nothing, yelled out, “ _Piper! Get your fucking ass back here!_ ”

Barry wasn’t sure in Len actually _expected_ Hartley to appear.  Especially since when Hartley did they all flinched.

His hood coiled over his body, Hartley was just… suddenly there.  He was falling to the ground, unconscious, not present- 

Barry sped forward in a flash, reaching out to catch him.  Hartley fell into Barry’s arms and Barry eased the genius slowly to the floor.  He turned Hartley over, pulling the hood off the genius’ face with a swift motion.  “Hartley?” Barry asked.

Hartley coughed, eyes twitching.  His right eye was turning blue and swelling, and there was a cut on the side of his cheek by his chin. “Fuck'n',” Hartley’s hand reached out.

Barry grabbed Hartley’s hand, not knowing what the man wanted, and Hartley pulled his hand out of Barry’s so he could snap his fingers.  “Hartley?” Barry asked as Hartley snapped his fingers again.   _Oh,_ Barry remembered, eyes widening in realization, _Antoinette.  But what on earth could separate Hartley from-_

“You know, Mr. Allen, everyone was very convinced you were dead.”

Barry lifted his head up slowly toward the voice.  Suddenly his body felt weak, tired, there was a ringing noise in his ears as he felt like his skin was on fire- energy shooting from an anxiously beating heartbeat into his brain that ran one word on repeat at a thousand miles an hour, _No no no no no._

Harrison Wells was leaning against the Starbucks coffee sign, but he uncrossed his arms and took a slow step forward when he met Barry’s gaze.

Wells was wearing the yellow Reverse Flash uniform, the hood pulled down, but he had a heavy black jacket on over the uniform and large beige boots on his feet.  His face was curled into a sympathetic smile.  “I couldn’t resist beating a little into Hartley,” Wells apologized with a chuckle, “I was dying to do that for years when he worked with me.”

Barry slowly stood up, letting Hartley fall to the floor.

“Harrison Wells, I’m assuming,” Leonard said, stepping forward with violent force in his motions.  His expression was rough, angry… unpredictable.  

The man who killed Barry’s mother meeting Barry’s lover, this was _not_ ideal.  This was _so, so, so, so_ fucked up.

Barry knew his expression must have been panicked, and he knew his voice sounded shaky and scared, but the only thing he could think of was to delay the inevitable.  “How did you find me?”  Barry asked Wells.  He was about to move forward toward the villain when Barry felt Lisa’s hand on his shoulder.  The woman stood next to him, eyes trained on the enemy, holding herself with just as much practiced confidence as her brother.

Hartley Rathaway moaned, grabbing his face and curling to his side.  He was struggling to make himself stand.

“Seems like Cisco or Caitlin made it out as well,” Harrison Wells said, tilting his head and watching Barry’s expressions, “one of them activated the technology in your suit which includes your geo-locater.  I don’t think they realized I have access to that data as well.”  

“What do you want?”  Barry asked, his tone sounding far more intimidating than he felt.

Harrison Wells didn’t answer, instead his eyes flittered over Leonard and Lisa curiously.  “If you’re looking for a speedster, Mr. Snart, I think you’ll find our particular tastes for power and glory a little better suited.”

_Is he trying to turn Len against me?_ Barry thought with a disbelief.

“That’s… not going to happen,” Len told Wells.

The Reverse Flash shrugged at that.  “Doesn’t the apocalypse make unlikely friends?" He observed, “Suppose I’ll have to take care of you as well, Mr. Snart.”

Barry’s chest clenched at the thought of Len fighting the Reverse Flash; the idea that Len, clever and smart but still so _human,_ would have to go against the force of anger, manipulation, and speed that was _Harrison Wells_ \- Urgently, Barry tried to bargain, “If you still want me to send you back to your time-”

“My timeline has already disappeared out of my grasp,” Harrison Wells said calmly, “I think I would have remembered hearing about the rise of the undead in history class.”

“Maybe you should have taken your own advice and not screwed around with the past,” Barry spat out fiercely.

_“What?”_ Lisa exclaimed, looking between Barry and Harrison Wells in disbelief.  “Are we talking about time travel?!”

“He’s-” Barry started to say.

“I’m from the tentative future,” Harrison Wells said, raising his eyebrows and looking at them smugly, “I’m a blast of the good old H. G. Wells.”

Barry felt like there was something significant about it but filed it away to think on at another time.  Right now, all he wanted was to get Len out of here _alive._  “So if I can’t send you back to your future,” _Holy shit! Did I say that?? Did I actually say that?? ‘Back to the future’ ohmygod, that actually…. that actually became relevant in my life enough for me to say that with a straight face, holy-_ “what do you want with me?”

Barry was grateful for his ability to think at super-fast speeds so his non-sequitor went unnoticed.  

“I mean, I have always wanted to kill you,” Wells told him.

Len raised his gun immediately, stepping fast over to Barry’s side and standing between the two of them.  “Like _hell,”_ Len snapped, fingers pulling back the trigger of his weapon just enough that any small motion would set it off.

Harrison Wells rolled his eyes.   _“Goodness,_ Flash, I have always despised your ability to make _friends_ out of anything.  You should really have a sense of dignity towards these things, you know.”

“Your advice lost its impact when I found out you killed my mother,” Barry said harshly.  He stepped forward, shaking off Lisa’s hand, until he was standing next to Len.  

_“Wow,”_ Lisa said behind them.  Barry glanced at her just enough to see Lisa helping Hartley to his feet, her hands still clenched around her gun.

Len glared at Wells, a vicious anger in his eyes that Barry had never seen before.  It was an expression Barry didn't like; it twisted Len's features into something made of pure rage.  “You ever been hit by my gun in that future world of yours? ‘Cause I’ve heard speedsters don’t like to run at absolute zero,” Len threatened, his knuckles clenched white.  

“You’ve been dead for a long time back where I come from, Leonard Snart,” Harrison Wells said with a tone that seemed to indicate he found speaking to Len far beneath him, “and I think you should let me have a little talk with the Flash in private.”

“That won’t happen,” Len assured him.

“It will, because Barry is simply far too full of _white-knight syndrome_ for his own good,” Harrison Wells said with a shrug.  The man held up his hand and- clenched between his too tight fingers was a squirming, panicked rat.

“Um,” Lisa said with her arm around Hartley as the piper swayed, almost unconscious, against her, “what the hell is that?”

The last thing Barry wanted to do was add to this situation by having to see an animal crushed in half in Harrison Well’s hand.  The frightened way the poor creature tried to free herself and her barely audible squeaks as Well’s held her tight, sent sickening shocks of pity into Barry’s stomach.  If Barry needed any _further_ confirmation that the Reverse Flash was a cruel, fucked-up psychopath determined to make Barry’s life hell, this was it.  Though the man killed his mother- there wasn’t much room for doubt.

“Alright,” Barry said slowly, raising his arms and taking a careful step forward.

“Why don’t we test how fast you are after your little hibernation,” Harrison Wells said with a cruel smile.  And then the man was lightning, a fast sudden glow of energy that rushed out, swerving past the group in a wide arc and heading out the door with a loud crash before anyone could react.

“ _Barry, don’t_ -” Len was reaching for him.

Barry wasn’t going to let Wells get away, he knew if the Reverse Flash didn’t get what he wanted than Wells would be right back again forcing Barry on this chase.  So the power surged in Barry’s skin and he gave himself up to it.  

He ran.  Speeding in the same direction Wells had gone, skirting the objects in his way as his brain reacted to everything in his path in near-instantaneous seeing, understanding, and thinking, Barry gave himself up to the force of speed inside of him.  It was like falling off a cliff, like being thrown by whiplash, like Barry’s entire being was caught up in the speed and it was his job to mediate that power- control it- send it out where it needed to go.

And what Barry needed was to get Harrison Wells as far away from Len as possible.  

The form that Barry understood to be Wells raced ahead of him, moving over the snow and flinging ice behind him like bullets just as the result of the snow catching on Wells’ boots and flinging off.  Barry followed- the snow burned against his feet, he was moving too fast and the moment any of it came into contact with him it melted right away; it was practically boiling when it touched Barry’s suit.  It was freezing, it was hot, and it was painful.

Barry wouldn’t let himself stop.  He couldn’t until he caught up to Wells.

But he almost screamed with relief when Harrison Wells slowed to a stop.

They were standing in the center of the highway, no car marks around them, only the jagged melted path of snow that indicated their trails.  The wind rushed through the trees around them, cold and bitter air pressed against the exposed skin of Barry’s face and hair.

Barry reached up then, slipping his hood back over his face.

Harrison Wells grinned at him.  “You’re so predictable, Barry,” he chastised, “how many times have I told you to work on that?”

“What do you _want?”_ Barry snapped.  His eyes moved down to Wells’ hands to see the still-squirming, still alive but frightened ball of brown fur in the other speedster’s grip.  Barry didn’t let the relief show on his face.

“I had honestly hoped to find you dead.  After all these months with no word, no grand presence of the Flash we had been _quite_ convinced I missed my opportunity to get rid of you.  You being _dead,_ well, then my only worry would be figuring out how to subvert the Black Hand’s control and get you following my orders,” Harrison Wells explained.

Barry shook his head.  “What?  I don’t-”

“Of course you don’t understand, you’ve been living under a rock.  Or… hiding out with the Rogues Gallery, for reasons I can’t fathom,” Harrison Wells said with a shrug.  The man turned his head to look down the rest of the road.

Barry blinked, following Wells gaze.  Barry couldn’t see anything, the highway up ahead dipped upward for a small hill a few hundred yards, but he could just start to _hear_ it.  A low, angry groaning that was not at all coming from the malfunctioning earpiece of his suit.   _The zombie hoard,_ Barry realized.  

And Barry suddenly noticed his feet felt fine.  He wasn’t too cold.  The hot sun beating down on him was warm enough and the temperatures were nowhere near the unbearable, freezing blizzard weather of the past few months.  The unnatural winter was over, it _had been_ over, and Barry hadn’t noticed.

“I’m not a zombie, in case you didn’t notice,” Barry said angrily.  He glared at Wells.  

“And I don’t yet know how to control them, though I certainly aim to make my way down to Florida to find out now that I can run again.”  Harrison Wells reached up to his neck and cracked his jaw with a sigh. “I had to check out the GPS signal once it came on, of course.”

“So you have,” Barry said, “now… what?”

“I suppose I’ll wait to kill you until all my ducks are in order.  Though, honestly, there could be another option for us,” the Reverse Flash said with a spark in his eye.

Barry swallowed.  “Which is?”

“I’m trapped.  I dug myself into a hole, coming back in time to kill you.  So here I am stuck figuring out how to make use of the unfortunate turn my life has made.  You and I... we were quite the team not too long ago, and I imagine that since I no longer have to hide my abilities we could do quite well for ourselves.”  With his dark eyes trained on Barry, Harrison Wells stepped forward slowly.  “We could create a whole _new_ Central City; a grand, new social world order run by the fastest men alive.  It would be an oasis of society in this desert of death and decay.  I would teach you how to use your powers properly, Barry.”  The Reverse Flash gave Barry a concerned grin, “I would be your mentor, and in return the two of us could rule over enough people to make life _very_ pleasurable for us.”

“I just came from a place that sounded a lot like that,” Barry said, glaring, “it’s called a cult.”

“Who’s to say we don’t deserve to be worshiped and admired for what we are?” Harrison Wells said nonchalantly, without even a hint of shame, “We are incredible beings, Barry Allen, and ordinary people should fear that.  I have to say, seeing that you’ve been getting along so well even with enemies like _Captain Cold_ has certainly given rise to the idea you and I could be _partners_ in our little future.  We did have so much fun before, didn’t we?”

“Go to hell, Wells.”

“It’s Eobard, actually,” the Reverse Flash corrected, “and I certainly don’t expect you to come to my way of thinking right away.  I think you should ruminate on a bit- imagine all the people dead because of how you and your superhero friends failed, and then when I come back I’ll give you the ultimatum.”

“Join you or die,” Barry clarified sourly.

“There you go,” Harrison Wells/Eobard praised, "you understand.  Here’s your prize.”  

And he tossed the rat up in the air.

Barry’s eyes widened, and in a flash he was reaching out, holding his hands up to cradle the frightened animal and pull her to his chest.  “It’s okay,” Barry tried to calm her down as Antoinette clawed and scraped, turning herself over onto her stomach.  He could feel her heart beating fast under his fingertips.

Barry looked up and the Reverse Flash was gone.

The noise of the zombie hoard was growing louder.  Barry held Antoinette gently but securely to his stomach and raced back.

* * *

“I can fix it,” Hartley said.  The genius was holding a large chunk of ice wrapped in a rag to his eye.  Antoinette was curled up in Hartley’s hood, safe and calm.  

The Flash uniform was lying inside-out on the small kitchen table as Hartley peered at the earpiece.  “The signal is coming through perfectly find on their end, that’s how Harrison Wells was able to find you, but some of the wires are corrupted with age here and it also looks like someone stuck the uniform in a laundry machine.”

“So I’ve been getting signals from Cisco or Caitlin but the suit is broken so I couldn’t hear?” Barry clarified, crossing his arms and looking down at Hartley.  

At the front of the car, Lisa and Shawna were lounging with blankets and cups of coffee, the seats pulled all the way back and their feet resting on the dashboard.  Both of them had books in their hands, Shawna was reading an adventure novel and Lisa a romance, but there was occasional friendly whispering between the two woman.  Mick Rory was sitting on the couch, Mark Mardon sitting on the floor, as the two men used the other couch cushion as a table to play cards on.

Leonard had taken up the other half of the kitchen table, pushing the Flash uniform off his side angrily, and was leaning over the map with a pencap in his mouth and a sour expression on his face as he marked the rest of their route.  Len had been making a point to ignore Barry since the moment he’d found out Barry hadn’t been hurt by the Reverse Flash.

The hoard was passing them.  The igloo they’d built to hide the RV seemed to do the trick, and they were _far_ from the main part of the highway.  Still, if they were silent for too long the distant groaning of the undead made a faint appearance in the background.  It was a larger group than any one of them had ever seen or dealt with before.  Hundreds of the undead were passing on the highway; a terrifying amount of zombies that no one wanted to acknowledge or speak about.

If even one of those monsters figured out they were there, there would be no way the entire group could possibly get out.  

Lisa said something and Shawna laughed.  

“How long will it take?” Barry asked Hartley.

“I don’t know,” Hartley grumbled, pissed, “I’ve got one eye, am legally deaf, and further handicapped by a lack of all of my lab equipment.  I’m not a miracle worker.”

Barry placed a sympathetic hand on Hartley’s shoulder.  “I-” Barry started to say.

“Sorry,” Hartley said quietly, “I get it.  This is your link to your friends.”

“It’s just-” Barry began again.

“And you saved Antoinette, the least I can do is be nice to you,” Hartley interrupted again.  “I’m just not in the greatest of moods right now since my former mentor and boss beat me to hell just for _fun_.”

Barry’s eyes flickered up to look at Leonard as the man, only a few feet away from him, still refused to meet Barry’s eye.  “I know what you mean,” Barry said.

“I’ll get started on it tomorrow,” Hartley promised, “when the swelling goes down.”

"And the GPS?"

"Disabled, smashed to pieces, and tossed outside through a crack in the window.  I made sure of that."

Barry nodded.  Shuffling his feet, stealing quick glances to Len, he asked Hartley, “you want some coffee?”

“Yeah,” Hartley said after thinking about it for a minute.  “Put loads of sugar in it.”  Hartley turned, a bit off balance, and then reached up to grab the curtain in front of the master bed.  He pulled the curtain to the side, pulled the fabric into a knot so it wouldn’t bother him, and then sat on the side of the bed.

The coffee was already made, they had plenty of the stuff now since it wasn’t hard to store.  It was resting on the hot plate, which Mick had used his gun on to heat up, in a blackened out coffee pot.  Barry poured two mugs, drowned both of them in sugar, (momentarily sighed at the lack of coffee creamer) and moved to the back of the RV, skirting passed Mick and Mark Mardon’s card game, to sit next to Hartley.  

Hartley took his coffee with a grateful nod.  “Can I ask you something personal?” Hartley asked as he took his first sip of coffee.  He made a disgusted face at the bitter taste but took another sip right after.  

“’Course,” Barry told him, “I like to think after a week in prison together we’re friends.”  Barry shuffled a bit on the bed, pulling his feet up and sitting cross legged.  The RV was cold, meaning Barry was wearing leggings, shorts, and his red running jacket but was still shivering.  The warm coffee in his hand helped.  

“I could accept being friends,” Hartley said in a tone that was fairly scornful.  But he chuckled. Hartley tilted his head, and looked slowly at the scene in the RV in front of them.  His gaze passed over all of the people there, Lisa, Shawna, Len, Mick, and Mark with an unreadable expression in his eye.  “Alright.  Now, while I _might_ be rooting for you and Leonard to break up, _no offense,_ it’s just that you’re both hot and I’m lonely-” Barry rolled his eyes but let Hartley continue, “Cold is acting a little _cold_ to you right now.”

“He didn’t like that I ran off to fight the Reverse Flash alone,” Barry said sourly.  

“Seems like you two should talk it out,” Hartley pointed out.  

“Probably,” Barry said while looking into his coffee.  

They were quiet for a long time, listening to the faint turning of pages from the front of the car, the quiet and competitive conversation between Mick and Mark, and the soft, terrifying groaning noise of the undead passing them by.  

“I don’t think I’m very good at relationships,” Barry said, frowning into his coffee mug.

“No one is,” Hartley assured him as he sipped the hot liquid.  He adjusted the ice pack on his eye so he could look at Barry.

“I can never figure out exactly what I’m supposed to…” Barry sighed, rubbing a hand on his temples.  “I’m not used to dating other guys.  I don’t know how it works.”

Hartley raised his eyebrows.  “It works like any other relationship,” he said with the air of explaining something to a toddler.

“Not really,” Barry defended.  He stirred the mug in his hand to watch the dark liquid make a whirlpool.  “When I date a girl it’s easier, I know when I’m supposed to… make a gesture to fix things.  I know who pays for dinner.  I know who’s supposed to pick dates.  I know how to act… how to… deal with everything.  It’s simpler and there is advice everywhere; I can ask people for help because whenever I had ‘girl problems’ I was always able to ask Joe or Iris except… the one time other time I dated a man it was like…” Barry sighed.  “No one knew what to say to me anymore or how to talk to me about things.  All of the sudden I was in some sort of ‘other’ type of thing and there were different rules.  And now-” Barry glanced at Len, who was still bent over the map with the pen, “I just don’t know if I should apologize or if I should wait for him to do it.”

Hartley listened to Barry silently and took a long moment afterward to organize his thoughts before he replied.  “I’m just gay, I don’t know how bisexual romance works, Flash,” Hartley told Barry with a shrug.  He took a sip of coffee.  “I think you should just do whatever feels right and stop worrying.  It’s your relationship so…” Hartley shrugged again.  “Who cares?”

“He’s mad because I ran off into danger without him and he couldn’t help or protect me,” Barry told Hartley, “but the thing is _I’m_ the meta-human.  I’m stronger than Len so I should be the one protecting him.”

“Yeah,” Hartley said, taking a big gulp of coffee before he continued, “but he is older, has more fighting experience, and he also adores the shit out of you so he’s going to be worried.”

“I don’t want him to worry about me.”

“He’s going to worry about you just as much as you’re going to worry about him, that’s what a relationship _is_ , idiot,” Hartley explained.  He set the ice pack down on his lap then, adjusting the cloak around him like a blanket, pulling it tight over his shoulders and then reaching a finger up to poke Antoinette’s sleeping form to make sure she was still there.  

“He has a gun that shoots _cold,_ which is my weakness.  He’s literally the most dangerous thing to me in a fight,” Barry said bitterly.

“You’ve fought together before and it was fine.  And wouldn’t that gun be useful if Harrison Wells comes back?” Hartley said pointedly.  “Leonard wants you safe just as much as you want him safe.”

Barry swallowed; he felt uncomfortably exposed and vulnerable toward Hartley.

“And if we’re going to be making contact with Cisco Ramon or Caitlin Snow soon you’d better figure out what’s going on in your relationship because I can guarantee you, none of _your_ friends are going to like it.  Self-righteous hero-types aren't as nice as criminals like us," Hartley gave a small grin into his drink and then coughed to mask it.  "You’re going to have to defend Leonard to them and you can’t have any misgivings,” he advised.  

Barry nodded.   _Hartley’s right_ , he thought with a sigh, running his hand through his hair.  “Thanks, it’s really good of you.”

“I think I’m a masochist,” Hartley bemoaned, picking up the ice and pressing it back on his face, “the only two men I have a chance with and I’m _helping_ their relationship.”

Barry grinned.  He reached out and squeezed Hartley’s arm.  “I mean it, thank you.”

“Don't you dare come to me for any more relationship advice until we find Zachary Quinto’s half-naked body fighting off the undead in some nice, smokey cabin in the woods, okay?” Hartley joked.

“Deal,” Barry said with a laugh. And for the first time in hours the crushing fear of seeing the Reverse Flash eased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddamn this fic. Fuck it. I'm not going to finish until it's 300,000 words or something ~ goddamn this damn thing, I love writing this but goddamn it. 
> 
> This chapter should have gone up yesterday but something on my block exploded and internet went down. It's back though, so... good times.
> 
> It didn't make sense to me that ultra-stalker man, Eobard, wouldn't have kept some sort of data information from Barry's suit on his person, so this chapter was definitely inevitable.


	19. 52 Miles from Central City

90 Miles from Central City

Len didn’t go to sleep when Barry and the other Rogues did. Len had insisted on staying awake in case of some attack.  He’d made a chart for the night detailing who took which shift and forced everyone to agree to part with their precious sleep for a short period of time so the RV was never unguarded. So it was hours later before Len crawled onto the bed and when he did it was only to shake Barry’s arm and let Barry know it was his turn to take watch.

Barry pulled on his clothes as he watched Len taking his off silently.  Barry shrugged the running jacket on and put the beanie over his head.  It was dark, cold, the undead still howled in the distance and since no one else was awake there were no sounds stopping the noise.

Len faced the other side of the wall and pulled up the covers.

Barry turned away from him, feeling slightly sick, and ducked through the curtain through the main part of the RV.

Lisa had the curtain on her bed pulled up, a black, wafting wall keeping her away from the world.  Mark and Mick were sleeping on the futon, each of the men pushed onto extreme opposite corners.  Hartley was lying in the center of the floor and Barry had to step over the genius’ sleeping form to get to the kitchen table.  Hartley was surrounded in a pool of blankets, snuggled up like a cocoon and he looked goofy.

Shawna was sleeping in the shot-gun seat, there were blankets all around her, holding her feet up on the dashboard, and her head was propped up by her arm resting on the window.  She was snoring gently, surprisingly she was only one who snored, and Barry thought it was a little funny the way she twitched her nose when she slept.

As Barry moved over to the driver’s seat, his arms wrapped around his chest and mouth fighting a yawn, he couldn’t help but guess the idea of sleeping in ‘shifts’ had a lot to do with Len trying to avoid him.  Len was being a child about it, Barry decided.  He sat down in the driver’s seat and glared out at the fogged up window, unable to see anything beyond the snow covering their vehicle.  

He was supposed to sit there for two hours.  The first minute passed by like an eternity and Barry instantly knew what he was doing was pointless.

If a zombie hadn’t noticed them _now,_ they were hardly likely to do it in the middle of the night.  Furthermore, Barry couldn’t even see _anything,_ the entire RV was covered in ice and snow for _crying out loud_.

Barry couldn't even sit down with a book to read.  He’d already read half the novels everyone had gathered from the Whole Foods in thirty minutes, and there was only so much trashy romance and Stephen King that a man could accept into his brain.

Barry found his fingers tapping on the window and Shawna stirred beside him.  He stopped, sheepish, and sighed.

He pulled the chair to lean back as far as it could go.  After a few moments of fighting off the chill giving him goosebumps, Barry stood up and went to the cabinet, grabbing a thick, knitted blanket and sitting back down in the driver's seat.  He pulled the blanket up to his chin and looked out the foggy window at his reflection.

_I do look thinner,_ Barry noted with a sigh.  Almost three months of apocalyptic conditions, of having to comply with rationed food and not being able to indulge his super-speed-metabolism, had given a definite shallowness to his already sunken in cheekbones.  It made the muscles in his body stand out more, made the veins on his hands bulge, and his whole body had this sharp quality to it that Barry didn’t like.

But when they got to Central City Barry would be able to loot any relevant food storage at superspeed; he’d have plenty to eat then.  

Barry _could_ run now.  He shifted in the seat, gripping the blanket tighter around him and frowning.  He buried his face under the blanket up to his nose.  It was true.  Running outside had been painful in the cold but not unbearable, if he had adequate protection on his feet like the Reverse Flash’s boots than Barry could run back to Central City as soon as the hoard passed by.

That would mean leaving Leonard alone.  Leaving the Rogues.

As Shawna snored beside him, and the general sounds of sleep countered the undead groaning in the air, Barry wondered if he could do that.  He glanced behind him.

Barry’s eyes flittered over Hartley snuggled up on the floor, to the awkward way Mick and Mark slept on the bed while entirely afraid to touch each other, to the wafting black curtain over Lisa’s sleeping space, and finally the blue bedsheet handing between the rest of the RV and the bed like an impenetrable wall.  

_If I left Len_ , Barry thought, and immediately the idea was painful enough to send a stinging sensation to his nose and behind his eyes.  Barry reached his hand up to rub his eyes with his palm. 

Barry turned back in his seat to look out the window.  

_If I left Len I’m not sure I could find him again,_ Barry gripped the blanket tighter around him, _I wouldn’t be able to protect him if there were zombies.  I wouldn’t know if he was okay.  I could run and run for miles but I’d be spending the whole time wondering how far away I was from him._

Was that who Barry was now?  Was Barry going to turn his back to everyone he loved, his friends, his _family,_ and instead continue traveling home at a snail’s pace just to be near Leonard Snart?

Maybe?

Barry didn’t like just sitting down while something _wrong_ was going on with Len and him.  He hated the idea of waiting around when they could be doing something to _fix_ it.  Barry had always worked at relationships- he’d never let anything end on a bad note and he always apologized. _Love isn’t easy, you have to work at it,_ words Barry always knew to be true, though he couldn’t remember who he’d heard it from.  He thought maybe his mother.

Barry pulled his legs up onto the seat and wrapped his arms around them. _I wonder what Len’s mother was like,_ Barry thought.  He reached out from under the blanket to press the pad of his index finger against the cool glass window.  It was like touching ice, but it made a visible mark against the fog.  Mindlessly, Barry traced out a lightning bolt shape with his finger. _I wonder what Len’s father was like.  He doesn’t talk about his father except to say that Len hated him._

Was Len’s father the reason Len had started his life of crime at seventeen?  Barry looked at the lightning bolt for a moment and then slowly drew a circle around it.  How had Lisa gotten into it? They were both children of a cop but had turned out to be internationally infamous thieves, it wasn’t like that was something that happened every day.

The Flash logo Barry had traced into the window was turning white against the glass.  He had to blink rapidly to fight off sleep, the cold air freezing his nose, fingers, and toes but the warm blanket wrapping him up to lull him to sleep.  Barry drew a stick figure next to the logo and, after looking at it for a moment, attempted to give it a quiver and some arrows.  

Barry didn’t want to let  _Barry_ _and Len_ go sour just because they were worried about each other.  It was the worst reason.  

Barry traced a dog in the window, because he knew how to drag stick figure dogs.  Then, as he was running out of room, Barry drew a stick figure with a top hat above the other drawings, and wrote the words ‘ _Hal says eat shit zombs_ ’ and connected them.

“It's good you never tried to be an artist,” Len’s voice grumbled into his ear.

Barry jumped.  He turned around quickly, slightly entangled by the blanket, and almost fell off the seat in his flailing rush to look at Len.  “Um-”

Len clamped his cold hand down over Barry’s mouth.  “Shawna is sleeping,” Len whispered the reminder.

_Oh, sure.  Talk to me now, of all times, when I can’t yell at you,_ Barry thought pessimistically.  

“I just wanted someone to be awake, you don’t have to sit up here if you don’t want to,” Len told Barry.  He looked tired, his forehead wasn’t wrinkled with thinking or his mouth drawn into a hard line; Leonard was relaxed and exhausted.  Calm.  Len yawned, bringing his hand up to cover it, and then leaned against Barry’s chair.  

The weight of his body pushed it down a bit, and Barry felt some security at the feeling of having Len beside him.   _“You_ stayed out here,” Barry reminded Len quietly.

“The winter is ending; we’ve started to see signs of others on the major highway.  I’ve been planning out a route to bring us back to Central off the main state roads that won’t delay us by much and keeps us within decent range of scavenge-able sources,” Len explained.

Shawna shifted in her sleep, her snores disrupted for a moment.  Barry and Len both looked at her.

Len yawned again and ran his hand over his head.  “We can talk on the bed?” He said, voice dropped to a tone nearly inaudible.

Barry nodded.  Len walked to the back, stepping wide over Hartley and Barry followed him.  Barry wrapped the blanket around his body like a cloak.  

As he crawled onto the bed and pulled the blanket shut behind him, Barry was struck for a moment with the fact the bed smelled like _them._  Shaking his head, Barry sat up on the bed, placing a pillow behind his back as he leaned on the wall.  Len did the same, sitting next to him.  

“I had to get my head in order,” Len told Barry carefully, “after what happened.”

“You could have said, ‘Oh, hi Barry, so great to see you alive’.” Barry crossed his arms.

“I could have,” Len nodded.

After a long moment of silence involving Barry picking at the pills on the blanket and pointedly not looking at Len, Barry asked, “Are you mad I went to fight the Reverse Flash?”

“I’m mad you went to fight the Reverse Flash _alone,”_ Len corrected.

Barry found it hard to argue with that logic.  “I didn’t have much time though,” he tried, “he was already running away.  If I didn’t follow him, he’d just have come back and grabbed something else or done worse until I did what he wanted.”

“We could have come up with a plan.  I asked you to stop and you didn’t.”

“What was your plan going to be?” Barry glared at him, “Punch him?  Hope he doesn’t grab your gun and throw you at supersonic speeds against a wall?  Pray the blunt force damage of-”

_“Quiet,”_ Len warned with a gesture to the rest of the RV.

Barry dropped his voice but continued, “You’re _human,_ Len.”

“So are _you,”_ Len said angrily.

Barry raised his hand, letting it vibrate until the entire limb was a blur of lighting and red.  “Does this look _normal_ to you, Lenny?” He argued.

“I did a damn good job keeping up with superfreaks before, Barry, just because I’m on your side now doesn’t mean I’ve stopped being good at what I do,” Len said.  He moved into Barry’s space, hands holding the sides of Barry’s arms as he looked into his eyes.  “I am _prepared_ to fight someone like the Reverse Flash.  I outfitted my gun with a wide blast to create an absolute zero drop zone, a force field where the yellow bastard couldn’t use his speed; I trained my ass off at a gun range to hit fast moving targets, and the goggles protecting my eyes have tracking technology that lets me see targets-”

“Were you planning to _kill_ me?” Barry stared.

The preparation Len was describing… there was no way Len would’ve been able to build or buy that in the past few months.  If that was something Len had than it was something Len had before the apocalypse.

“I was planning to keep up with you,” Len told Barry honestly, “stop you.  It was never my intention to kill you because that would have attracted too much negative attention.”

“All of your gear-”

“Can help you fight the Reverse Flash,” Len said sternly.

Barry shrugged Len’s hands off of his arms.  He rubbed his temples, thinking.  

“But I can’t have you acting like the rules don’t apply to you, Barry,” Len continued.  The man seemed unsure what to do with his hands so Len curled them into fists at his sides for a default.  “If you were serious about wanting me in charge then you have to listen to me.  I have to be a leader.”

“I get it,” Barry said.  

“We can come up with a plan for the next time the Reverse Flash attacks you,” Len promised.

“I _get it_ ,” Barry repeated angrily.  

Len frowned at him.  “What is _still_ wrong?” 

“I don’t want you to fight the Reverse Flash,” Barry said.  He glared at Len.  “I don’t _want_ your help fighting him.”

“You’re going to get my help whether you want it or not,” Len insisted.

“He killed my _mother,_ Len,” Barry almost shouted before he remembered to be quiet, and the words fell to a low whisper, “and I couldn’t _stop_ him.  He killed my mother and sent my father away to prison for _my entire childhood_.  I lost both of my parents because this sadistic fuck out there with freaking superpowers wants to ruin my life and I don’t want you going anywhere near him because if he takes you away from me too I’m going to _lose my mind_.”

Len watched Barry silently and then pulled Barry’s hands down from his temples, grabbing it in his own.  “Would you let me walk outside into the hoard of zombie alone?” Len asked.

“What?” Barry glared at him, _“No,_ why-”

“I’m not going to let you fight a superpowered psychopath alone either.  So we are just going to have to accept the fact that at any given moment we are both in danger for our lives and learn to rely on each other.  I can’t make it through this without you, Barry.”  Len squeezed his hand comfortingly.

Barry frowned.  “And what am I supposed to do if you run off and die?”

Len shrugged.

Frowning, Barry pulled his hand out of Len’s grasp and grabbed Len’s shirt.  He gripped him tightly, glaring into Len’s face.  “I don’t want you to die, Lenny, it’s not a joke-”

“I know,” Len said, eyes wide and staring.  He looked at Barry for a long moment, tilting his head and contemplating.

Barry felt the blood in his face rushing into a blush so strong he was afraid he’d turn blue.  “So?”  Barry asked.  And Len was just looking at him, not saying anything, his head barely moving and eyes blinking slowly as he watched Barry.  “If you give me the silent treatment over this, Len, I’m going to throw you in front of the zombie hoard myself,” Barry said, his voice feeling weak, “Joe did that shit all the time and it’s _childish_ and-”

“I wasn’t giving you the _silent treatment_ ,” Len protested.

“What do you call ‘not talking’ to me?”

“I was thinking.”

“And you couldn’t say one thing to me about it?”

“You ran off to fight the Reverse Flash without a word either!”

“I was saving Antoinette!”

“The fucking rat?! You and Hartley named the fucking _rat?!”_

Barry glared at him.   _“Yes,”_ he said angrily.

Len was frowning at him, long hard shadows cast from the sparse light coming from outdoors.  There was a steady, dark blue glow coming from the light over the curtain, light which was seeping through the ice around them leaving the world in their apartment a mix of light and dark blues.   _Len looks good in blue_ , Barry noticed.  And his chest hurt looking at the other man. 

“I don’t want to fight,” Barry told Len quietly.

Len’s expression changed, the hard lines in his forehead softened, and he reached out to take Barry’s hand again.  “I know,” Len said.

Barry clasped Len’s hands tightly.  “I kind of want to…” Barry said, and then when he realized what he was thinking stopped.

Len pulled one hand away and took Barry’s shoulder in his.  Shifting, Len guided Barry to his side and let Barry lean on him.  

Barry curled his legs up to the side and grabbed Len’s shirt, his chin resting on Len’s shoulder.  Barry sighed.  “I wish we could just find some place and be safe forever.  Make some giant… igloo or something and just live there.  I could find food for us.  You could use that force field of yours to keep everyone else out.”

Len rested his arm on Barry’s back and held him close.  “You don’t want that at all and neither do I.”

“I bet if we just ran off we could be safe.”  Barry continued, his fingers twisting the material of Len’s shirt in his hands, “We could be undetectable.  Two people could make it so much easier.  I could carry you and you would tell me where to go.”

“The sentiment is sweet, Barry, but I’d rather cut off my right hand than leave Lisa,” Len said with a happy tone.  He turned his head and his lips brushed on Barry’s forehead.  “And you need your family.”

Barry didn’t know why he felt… defeated by that.  “I know,” Barry whispered.  Yet there was something strangely compelling about the fantasy of him and Len alone together.

"I am very, very safe surrounded by geniuses, expert thieves, and meta-humans,” Len assured Barry.  He pressed a kiss against Barry’s head.  “I’m safe with you.”

“I want everyone to be protected and safe but lately it’s…” Barry couldn’t figure out how to finish the sentence and Len did it for him.

“Impossible,” Len said, “it’s impossible for you to put that much pressure on yourself.  You can’t accept the burden of keeping everyone perfectly safe; you’re not a god, Barry Allen.”

“But I have this superpower-”

“So do plenty of people.”

“But mine is…” Barry wasn’t sure how to word it, “I can help… so many people with it.  I have a responsibility to protect everyone.”

Len shifted in the bed.  “Alright, fine.”  His hand on Barry’s back rubbed Barry’s in a comforting circle.  Barry closed his eyes, holding Len’s shirt tightly.  “I’m going to tell you something that’s shit,” Len began.

“Okay."

“There is no possible way to keep even a single other person safe,” Len said, his voice low and tired, “no matter what you do.  No matter how hard you try.  At some point you are going to fail and if you have placed the pressure on yourself to _keep_ them safe and then you _fail_ it is going to practically kill you.  I spent my whole life with Lisa’s safety as my priority, trying to be her parent, and when I failed to provide for her I was in the darkest place I could be.  It’s not something I have ever gotten over, or I ever will get over.”

Barry shifted on Len’s chest, not sure what to say.  He didn’t really understand but Barry figured it was best for him to be quiet and let Len speak.

“Our father was a cop, that’s how he got away with it.  Hospital visits, 9-1-1 calls from neighbors, concerned messages from teachers or school counselors…” Len’s voice trailed off for a moment, like he was steeling himself, and then he continued, “my father could make that all go away.  It never stopped, never ended, and the only time he ever noticed Lisa existed was when he was angry.  I love my sister and I couldn’t let him hurt her so…. I just let him get at me instead.  I protected Lisa and I decided that keeping her safe was my responsibility.  I took care of her as best I could but it wasn’t enough.”

Barry shifted closer to Len, his hands wrapping around Len’s chest as Len continued.

“For awhile, no matter what my father did to me, it was fine if Lisa was alright.  I don’t know, perhaps it was just survival aspect, but whenever Lisa was scared I would promise to her that I would never leave her and it would calm us both down.  And then…” Len sighed, “I _left._

"I couldn’t take it.  I wanted money, I wanted Lisa to go to college, I wanted to spend a day in my life without… so I left home to join some gang and I left Lisa alone with our father.  I thought if I was good enough as a thief I could send Lisa to a school with an ice skating team and she could join the Olympics and… being a fucking idiot, I thought that would make my selfishness worth it.”  

Len paused for a long moment before he continued, “It wasn’t.  I hurt Lisa worse and the hate I’ve felt since is not something _anyone_ deserves.  Least of all _you,_ Barry."

He held Barry tightly as he spoke, "You haven’t done a selfish thing in your life; the moment you got superhuman abilities you were out saving the damn world because that’s the sort of thing you thought of doing.  You had a home life out of a Dickens novel and you turned into a hero.”

Barry felt like there was a lot to process.  “Anyone would have done what I did,” Barry said softly.

“Barry, if _I_ had superpowers the first thing I’d do would be to rob a bank,” Len said with a short, sour laugh.

“What happened to Lisa?”

Len’s hand froze on Barry’s back.  Quickly, with a painful bitterness to his voice, Len said, “She killed our father to protect herself and was given a life sentence for it.”

“That’s not fair,” Barry lifted his head, staring at Len in confusion.  “If he was hurting her-”

“She stabbed him when he was sleeping.  No judge was going to accept a nineteen year old girl killing a cop like that.  Lisa was sentenced to life with a stipulation that she could get mental counseling and... it was the end of her semester at college and her dreams of going to the Olympics.”

“And that’s how you and Lisa became… what you are,” Barry realized.  The answer to the question he’d always wanted to hear.

“I tried to convince her to live on the right side of the law, get help and be released in ten years for good behavior but Lisa didn’t want it.  We both made the choice to be criminals; it wasn’t like we were thrown into the life without asking.  The option came up and we took it,” Len explained.  

“You wouldn’t have had the option if you had a normal life.”

Len shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” Barry told him seriously.

“I figured you should know.  You gave your sob story first.”  With a hint of a smile, Len nudged Barry’s side gently and said, “I did promise our arrangement would involve mutual exchange.”

“That’s what you’re going to go with after telling me that?” Barry grumbled against Len’s chest as he rested his head down on the other man.

“Yes.” Len said smugly, but he added, “No matter what situation you’re in, or how many skills you have, you _cannot_ assume the sole responsibility of another person on your shoulders.  You will do your _best,_ Barry, and that’s all you can ask of yourself.”

“Really good advice,” Barry said, feeling sleep starting to make his whole body heavy, “from a criminal.”  The more Barry learned about Len, the more he _liked_ him, and Barry never wanted to stop feeling this way.  He never wanted to stop resting his head on Len's shoulders like Len was his anchor in a storm.

“I have my moments.  They’re rare.”

Barry couldn’t hear any of the zombies outside with the sound of Len’s heartbeat under his ear.  It was nice.

They fell asleep a moment later.

* * *

78 Miles from Central City

“Shouldn’t you go on guard duty?” Lisa said with a grin, shifting the RV’s gear as she maneuvered around an abandoned car on the highway.  “Make sure not to fall _asleep_ again.”

“Just let me drive, Lisa,” Len said, disgruntled.

“Oh no.  You should be getting your beauty rest.  I mean, you were up _all night_ making sure the zombies didn’t get us,” Lisa continued to press.

Barry hunched his shoulders over a plate of pancakes (he had five, and Shawna was watching him carefully as if she couldn’t believe Barry was going to eat them) and tried not to be embarrassed.  

Being woken up after accidentally falling asleep on guard duty had not been the nicest feeling.  Though, as the RV had survived detection and Mick had burned down the ice walls allowing them to continue on their journey, everyone was responding to their failure with good-natured teasing.

Still, Barry was convinced the pancakes from his batch had been deliberately burned.  

_Thank god for the American desire to freeze package everything into just-add-water mixes,_ Barry thought as he poured syrup over his next bite.  Barry was very sure somewhere in the pantry there were brownie mixes too and he was really hoping they made those soon. _I wonder how long it will be before looting for food is useless because all supplies are expired._

Then, pausing with the fork near his mouth, Barry realized, _Don’t condoms expire too?_  Damn.  The apocalypse really was the end times.

At least Barry genuinely _liked_ Twinkies so the idea of immortal Hostess treats would gave him a little bit of comfort.

Mick Rory was standing over the stove with his fire gun and a pan, strategically heating up the final round of pancakes for Hartley and himself.  Mick either really enjoyed cooking or would do anything for an excuse to use his gun indoors.  Barry couldn’t complain, not with a stomach full of breakfast comfort food and a hot cup of coffee.

“You eat a lot,” Shawna said, leaning up on the table and looking at Barry.  Mark Mardon, who was reading a sentimental fiction novel on the couch, briefly frowned at her before going back to the book.

“Metabolism,” Barry said with a mouth full of pancake, “superfast.”

“We could probably replace you with three UFC champions and they still wouldn’t eat that much of our rations,” Shawna frowned.

Hartley, sitting at the table with them, found the conversation interesting enough to set down the Flash costume and screwdriver onto his lap.  True to his word, Hartley had been working on fixing the earpiece since he’d woken up. “Using your powers probably gives you nearly the same rate of energy expenditure as doing the same task at normal speed, right?” Hartley asked, the science jargon sounding odd coming from a man in a green cloak with a rat nuzzling by his ear.

Barry ripped a small piece of one of his pancakes and held it up to Hartley’s shoulder for Antoinette.  With a long twitch of her nose and a quick sniff of Barry’s palm, she grabbed the food with her small paws and buried herself in the crook of Hartley’s neck to eat it.

“Yes, though my body doesn’t go through the same wear and tear,” Barry said, trying to remember what Caitlin Snow had said.  “So… if I run from Central City to Coast City my body refuels like I just ran a marathon, but not like I ran from Central to Coast City.”

“But the energy has to come from somewhere,” Hartley said with a curious look at Barry.

“I sometimes get the feeling that I’m… tapping into an outside energy source,” Barry said, chewing thoughtfully as he tried to explain it, “like if I go fast enough it can almost feel like I’m being pulled.  Maybe I’m taking energy from the world around me? Though I think if I was it would probably be noticeable.”

Mick Rory put a plate down on the table with a steaming hot, very large pancake that was burned on one side.  “Yours,” Mick said gruffly to Hartley before the pyromaniac went back to lighting food on fire over the stove.

Hartley pulled the plate toward himself.  Barry handed him the syrup.  “It’s like… with Shawna,” Hartley said with a nod to her, “the powers involve Shawna not so much ‘teleporting,’ as science fiction would explain, but rather displacing and moving objects at an atomic level from one place to another. When you go to one area, the air from that area is moved to where you are.  The transporter technology from Star Trek is based on the same scientific principle.”

“Wicked,” Shawna said, interested.

“What about me?” Mark Mardon set his book down on his lap and peered over to the table from the futon.

“You never let me experiment with your powers,” Hartley reminded him with a frown.  “I’m assuming you have the ability to effect barometric pressure and water molecules in the air but since you never let me poke around while you-”

“Hartley, I do not want you poking me with anything.”

“Aw,” Hartley said with a smirk, “just ask Barry, _poking’s_ not so bad.”

Barry kicked Hartley’s foot under the table.

“Ow!” Hartley glared at Barry.  “I’m fixing your special Flash radio, be nice to me.”

“You’re fixing that communication device or you’re out on your ass, Piper,” Leonard said from the front of the car.  He was hovering over Lisa as she drove in an obvious attempt to make her uncomfortable.  Lisa, to her credit, wasn’t allowing herself to be moved.

He was close enough that if Barry reached out Barry could grab him, so Barry did.  He took a handful of Len’s shirt and pulled.  

Turning, with a raised eyebrow, Len looked at Barry for a long moment.  Then he abandoned the driving to Lisa and walked over to stand behind Barry’s chair and wrap his arms around Barry’s shoulders, his chin resting on the top of Barry’s head.  Len sighed calmly.  

“How do you think the _powers_ happened, you know?” Mark Mardon asked Hartley, pointedly ignoring Barry and Len's public display of affection, “Why were some people affected by the particle accelerator explosion and some not?”

“I ask myself that every day,” Hartley said sadly.  He took a small bite of pancake, swallowed it, and then continued, “Also why no one thought it was insane that Yale has a damn particle accelerator _too_ but just because the one in Central City involved theoretical experimentation of cell production and the internal chemical changes resulting in transmutation of atomic forms it was so damn impressive.  I mean, a couple little adjustments to pre-existing particle accelerators, maybe some good old fashioned government funding, and _I_ could have done the same experiments.”

“Yes,” Barry said, remembering everything he’d read about the particle accelerator before the accident, “but no one was using a particle accelerator for the same things they were doing at STAR Labs.  Instead of proving already collected research or working on paid projects, STAR Labs was jumping straight into atomic level theories that would change the way we look at all cellular structure.”

“This is not the answer to my question,” Mark Mardon pointed out.

“Shh, babe,” Shawna said, dismissing him with her hand.  “I remember hearing something back when I was getting my RN certification about the project being used to create skin and organic tissue that could be 3-D printed,” she asked to Hartley.

“That was one of the uses,” Hartley nodded, “I wasn’t involved in that research though I wanted to be.  I was interested in whether we could regrow organic tissue like ear canals or hearts that would comply with an individual’s DNA but Harrison Wells wanted me working on production not research preparation.”

“He knew the project was going to fail, he sabotaged it on purpose so I would become the Flash sooner than in his timeline,” Barry said, “but were you seriously working on technology to print organic tissue?”

“Doctor Snow,” _Caitlin,_ Barry thought sadly as Hartley spoke, “was certain we could use it to master human DNA and cure cancer.  If we could find a way to make viable donor skin, blood, and organs for people than anyone with a disability, a genetic fault, or a life-threatening illness could theoretically have the faulty parts of their body surgically replaced.”

“How would that apply with neuroscience?” Shawna asked, leaning forward with interest.

“Not at all,” Hartley confessed, shrugging, “the human brain is not nearly mapped out or understood enough.  I’m certain it would be applied to brain surgery and technology but it would be a horrific trial-and-error process before it was in any parts successful.”

Len pressed his lips against the top of Barry’s head and listened silently.  Barry tried not to smile as he continued to eat.  “So…” Barry said.

Mick Rory grabbed the syrup from the table and sat down on the couch next to Mark.  “You ever been to Fiji?” Mick Rory asked Mark, which turned out to be the start of some long winded story Mick had about working with a crew of mercenaries for a cocaine smuggling business before he knew Leonard.  Mark seemed grateful to have something else to talk about.

“If the particle accelerator was attuned to DNA and cellular structure,” Barry said, thinking, “would that mean that the genetic capability for meta-human abilities was already apparent in our DNA?”

Hartley’s eyes widened in surprise and he thought about it for a long moment.  “I mean… yes, that could definitely be the reason some people were affected and some weren’t,” he said, “though I haven’t seen anything in our research relating to some meta-human genetic code but it’s not like DNA is understood well enough that the possibility could be dismissed.”

“So meta-humans are special,” Shawna said with a grin.  “Maybe we’re born with it, maybe it’s Maybelline.”

Hartley shrugged.  “This is all theoretical unfortunately.  We have no ability to reboot the particle accelerator to study this and I certainly can’t run an atomic and DNA research science lab out of an RV like _Breaking Bad_.”

“ _Breaking Bad_ was a good show,” Shawna said suddenly.

“I didn’t really get into it,” Barry admitted, “I’ve worked to many meth related cases.”

“It was a good show,” Leonard mumbled into Barry’s hair, “you didn’t have to agree with the characters to watch it.”

“I liked it too,” Lisa said from the front of the car.

“That’s ‘cause you’re all criminals,” Barry reminded them with a teasing grin, “hardened criminals.  You guys would like the show.”

_“Everyone_ liked _Breaking Bad_ ,” Hartley defended, grinning “not just the criminal underground.”

“Most people I knew at the station didn’t like it,” Barry said.

“Everyone, except some criminal justice workers, liked _Breaking Bad_ ,” Hartley corrected.  

With a petulant grin, Shawna looked up at Len and winked.  “Honestly what do you see in this goody-two-shoes of a boyfriend?  He doesn’t even like _Breaking Bad_.”

Len chuckled into Barry’s hair. “No idea,” he said.

“I’m being ganged up on,” Barry announced, “I’m trapped in a van with almost everyone who has ever tried to kill me and now they’re mad at my Netflix choices.”

Suddenly, Shawna slammed her hand down on the table.  The loud ‘smack’ was enough to make everyone look up at her in surprise.   _“Oh,_ my, _God,”_ Shawna said loudly, “fucking _Heroes_ on NBC.  Who remembers _Heroes?”_

_“Heroes_ was great,” Barry remembered, smiling brightly, “they didn’t have any speedsters though, did they?”

_“Heroes_ was good theoretically, as a show it had lots of plot failings,” Hartley told them, “I did watch all of it but that’s just because of Zachary Quinto.”

“Wasn’t he the villain?  The Sylar guy?” Shawna asked.

Hartley shrugged, “Birds of a feather?”

“Remember _Lost?”_ Barry asked.  He took a big bite of the pancake.

There was a collective groan as everyone remembered _Lost._

* * *

Central City

Iris could hardly breathe as she shoved at the unmoving, undead monster lying over her.  With an angry slam of her boot against the concrete floor, she called out, “ _Get it off_!” 

She could hear something slamming against something in the background, knew Eddie was using his police baton to get the rest of them, but the prospect of lying with the bullet-brained but still gross, two-hundred and fifty pound, undead body resting on top of her was too horrifying a concept.   _“Caitlin!”_ Iris yelled out.  

“I’m sorry,” there was the sound of something metal and hollow falling to the ground, _Caitlin’s baseball bat_ , Iris assumed, “I’m sorry.  I had to finish with the generato-”

“Just get it _off!”_ Iris snapped.  She pushed up at the body with all of her might, wincing as a broken jaw flopped onto her shoulder.

With Caitlin hoisting the undead body up and over to the side, the two women were eventually able to get Iris out from under it.  

Iris shivered, seeing the dried flaked of blood and dusty stains on her already worn and stained jeans and shirt.  She zipped up her leather jacket immediately.  “Damn it,” Iris growled.  She fumbled around for her weapons.  The hatchet was easy; it was resting in the dead zombie’s skull.  Iris stood up and reached to the back of her jeans to make sure her father’s gun was still there.  

She couldn’t see Eddie anywhere in the hallway in front of her, but she could hear footsteps and the sound of breaking bones in the next room over.  “We’ve sure spent a lot of time trying to find these generators,” Iris grumbled.  She adjusted the hand on the hatchet and took a deep breath.  Iris knew she had to mentally prepare herself to go forward and fight again.

“These were _your_ neighbors,” Caitlin reminded Iris, “you were the one who said they had a generator.”

Iris sighed.  “I know.”  With a glance at the undead body of the man on the floor, she frowned.  “That man was friends with my dad.”

“I’m sorry,” Caitlin said.  She reached out and set her hand on Iris’ shoulder.

Iris shook her head and steeled herself.  Her fingers tightened on the hatchet.  “You and Cisco just have to be right about Barry,” Iris told her quietly, “if we find out Barry is dead too I’m not… it will just…” she couldn’t figure out how to finish it.

“We need a new working generator,” Caitlin told her, “we can’t sneak into the compound anymore and the last one is too broken to repair it.  But we _were_ getting signals from the Flash suit when we had it up and running.”

“But Barry didn’t reply to anything you sent,” Iris reminded her.

Caitlin winced and pulled her hand away.  “I know.”

“And the GPS signal is gone.”

“We don’t know for sure what that means,” Caitlin tried to assure her.

Iris frowned and slowly walked toward the sound of fighting.  “It means I’m not getting my hopes up,” she said angrily.

* * *

52 Miles from Central City

“How much time do you think until the earpiece works?” Barry asked Hartley.

Hartley, who had the entire earpiece dismantled by now and was working on cleaning the wires and reattaching them to a circuit board, shrugged.  “Soon, I think,” he said.

“Hartley should get an extra ration of the hard cider,” Shawna announced loudly, “since he has to keep working.”

“What about me?” Lisa yelled out from the front of the RV.

“You’re _driving,”_ Shawna dismissed, “and you won’t _let_ anyone else drive.”  Lisa gave her the finger in response.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Shawna was dealing out the next round of cards.  Len was sitting on the floor, leaning against the stove, and Barry was sitting in between his legs with his back pressed against Len’s chest because… well, the game worked best with four players so he and Len were being a team.  That was their excuse.

Mark was sitting on the couch, his foot next to Shawna and she rested her head against his knee after she handed the shuffled cards out to Mark, Mick, Len, and herself.  Mick Rory, the only one in the group not distracted by physical contact, was flipping a lighter in his hand on and off because it apparently helped him think.  When he’d first done it, Mick had looked at Len as if he’d expected Len to tell him to stop, but since Len had his arms around Barry (as they tried to figure out how to wordlessly communicate which cards to play), Len hadn’t told Mick to stop.

“I _should_ get an extra ration of hard cider,” Hartley decided, looking up from the Flash suit for the first time in half an hour.  

“You can have mine,” Barry told him.  

“You don’t even drink alcohol,” Mark Mardon reminded Barry, his expression full of disbelief as if the idea of someone not drinking alcohol was unheard of.

_Not by choice_. “So I have an extra ration of the stuff,” Barry told him, “and Hartley can have it.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Hartley said, giving Barry a slow bow as he walked over to the pantry.  Hartley picked up one of the bottles of hard cider and looked at Leonard as if expecting Len to protest.

Len, content, just shuffled the cards around in his hands and held Barry close to him.

With a grin, Hartley took the cider back to the table and popped it open with an expert motion from his screwdriver.  “You all have no idea how brilliant I am,” Hartley reminded the as he bent back over the table.  He had to brush his hand over the uniform to get Antoinette away from the wires she had been sniffing at curiously.  “That’s why you don’t want me playing poker with you.”

Len was holding the cards in front of Barry and Barry reached up to point at the King of Diamonds.  He looked up at Len with a question in his eye, and Len moved the card to the right side of his hand in response.   _Yes,_ Barry thought, _wordless communication and PDA: check_.  He grinned, shifting more comfortingly against Len’s chest as he lay down.

“I would crush you,” Mark Mardon told Hartley.  “I played poker in Chinatown with three members of a crime syndicate.  I out-bluffed an Italian assassin who had a royal flush.  I can play poker.”

“And you’re still losing to your girlfriend,” Shawna said in a sing-song tone.

“You’re sitting on the floor,” Mark Mardon told her, “I can see your cards.”

"Then why are you _losing?"_   Shawna slapped his ankle and shuffled away from him, peering over her cards angrily.  

“Len’s really good at poker,” Mick Rory said, “I think the Flash is just shit at it, that’s why I'm beating him.”

“Probably,” Len said nonchalantly.

Barry rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face didn’t go down at all.

His eyes moved over to Hartley as the genius continued to work on the earpiece.  It wasn’t going to be long at all before Barry connected with his friends again; and every hour Lisa drove the group grew closer and closer to Central City.

Barry felt an odd mix of happiness and dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very domestic chapter because I'm friendship-loving shit and my brain is insistent on making Barry and the Rogues best friends. This is also an important chapter for Barry for many reasons. 
> 
> I know it might seem really out of character for Barry to think about abandoning everyone, but what I was trying to do in the chapter was his internal insecurity over his relationship with the Rogues and Len especially meeting his friends and family but him in the chapter finding the relationships are strong enough that he is willing to defend them. And also Joe West modeled the idea of 'keep loved ones safe by getting them as far away of danger as possible' to Barry so it's what Barry goes to by default now that he realizes how much he needs Leonard around.
> 
> I honestly didn't plan for the mother/father talk chapter to go up on mother's day; what a random chance of happenstance


	20. Central City

1 Mile to Central City

“It’s working,” Hartley assured him.

Barry, sitting on the couch with his Flash uniform on, pressed the headset off and on again.  “Hello,” Barry repeated for what might have been the twentieth time.

“It’s fine on this end,” Hartley said, leaning over the edge of the couch and staring at Barry’s ear.

“Could it be out of battery?”

“No,” Hartley rolled his eyes, “the suit technology is powered by you.  If you’re moving, the suit tech is working.  It’s a very… good adaption.  Though it has that same sloppy, Cisco Ramon handiwork.”

“That’s the guy who made the guns, right?” Mick Rory asked as he zipped up his coat.

Len, who was sitting on the couch next to Barry as he pulled on his boots, nodded and opened his mouth to answer Mick when Lisa opened the bathroom door and said loudly, “Yes.”

Lisa’s enthusiasm made everyone pause to look at her.  

“What?” Lisa said, glaring at the group.  She pulled her black jacket over her arms and fluffed out as much as she could of her hair, which was growing into curls around the top of her head and the longer strands were falling into natural ringlets.  Also, about half of those long strands were cut off and Lisa was holding a pair of scissors in her hands.  She stepped back into the bathroom, the door open this time, and resumed cutting her hair in the mirror.

“It’s going to look very nice short,” Len told her.

Lisa glared at her reflection.  “I swear to god if we end up finding a relaxer in Central City and I chopped off most of my hair for nothing I’m going to kill someone.”

“It looks nice.  Like mine,” Shawna said, “so stop complaining.”  She was helping Mark Mardon into some of Len’s running clothes.  Mark was still in a lot of pain, but the entire group was suiting up and getting ready to enter Central City.

There was no telling what they would find there.  

The RV was parked in the middle of a trailer park, suitably disguised by the several, empty, other RVs still abandoned there.  Though they were surrounded by trees and nature, it was only one mile to Central City.  Once they reached the bridge, they’d be exposed and vulnerable until they made it to the other side.  All of the Rogues were going.

“Maybe you should go blonde again,” Len said loudly.  He finished pulling on his boot and sat back on the couch seat.  He put his arm around Barry’s shoulders.

“The next person to say something about my hair gets a gold hand,” Lisa threatened.

“I have a question about the supplies,” Hartley said, changing the subject.  He was holding that long flute and his hands were covered in a makeshift copy of those sonic gloves he’d had when Barry first fought him.  “If we’re all bringing a bag to carry loot, are we bringing any other supplies? Should one person carry some food with us?”

“Mick was going to bring a full bag,” Len said with a nod.  “That’s just in case, mostly spare weapons and tools.  I want us to concentrate on finding anything useful, but other survivors are the priority.”  He turned to Barry.  “You’re bringing the pictures?”

“Yep,” Barry nodded, tapping backpack sitting between his legs.  Barry was bringing the photographs of his friends and family in case they came across any survivors and he could ask them if they’d seen them.  He had hoped the earpiece would work, but for some reason the other line was entirely silent.

Len raised his voice as he cast a long glance at the collection of people suiting up.  “We’re moving out in five,” Len ordered.

He sounded strong, confident, and there was something about the fierce determination in Len’s face despite the threat of danger that had Barry reaching out to rest his hand on Len’s thigh.  Their eyes met and Len’s serious face softened for just a moment.  He reached out, hand resting on Barry’s head, and gave him a swift kiss.  

Barry grinned even as Len pulled away.  

* * *

Central City

The wind howled between tall buildings, passed under overturned and abandoned cars, swirled the leaves and sticks of untamed urban décor, sent shivers down the backs of the Rogues, and rested petulantly over the trash and decaying potholes that littered the city streets.  There were two inches of snow on the ground, an unsteady blanket of white, and the effect of a city abandoned felt ominous and terrifying.

Central City felt dead.  It was as if all life on earth was gone, not even a squirrel or pigeon crossed in front of them as the Rogues walked straight down the middle of Third Avenue with no fear of traffic.

Barry had grabbed for Len’s hand in his own the moment they’d seen the bridge.  As they’d passed over that monolith, stepping around the groping zombies still stuck in their seatbelts, the _scent_ of the city grew stronger.  Barry couldn’t explain what the city smelled like, but it was a combination of everything disgusting and it made his skin crawl.

Even with gloves on both their hands, Barry could get comfort from the strength of Len’s grip.  Their fingers interlocked together, falling down to their sides, and Len kept his cold gun in his other hand while Barry’s hand twitched over to the knife holster on his thigh every time he heard a sound.  Hartley, Shawna, and Mark Mardon made up the back of the group, Lisa and Mick Rory walked side by side with their eyes trained on the opposite sides of the road, and Len and Barry lead in the front.  Barry was glad no one commented on the holding hands, he felt like he needed to have the comforting feeling of knowing Len was beside him while he was looking elsewhere for danger.  

Everyone seemed disturbed too.  Central City wasn’t… friendly anymore.  It didn’t feel like home, it felt like the vision Barry had been given by the cannibal woman on the Habnerdish farm because everything was what he wanted but it was all wrong.  Everything in the city was empty, the lack of noise was a hollow reminder that the city was gone and the majority of people dead.

Barry was sure, now, that he was never going to have his life back again.

“STAR Labs is twenty blocks from here,” Len said softly, the first thing anyone had said since they’d entered the city.

There was something about the light dusting of snow on the ground at Barry’s feet that reminded him of ashes.

“Not far,” Barry tightened his grip on Len’s.  He wondered if he could grip Len tight enough he could burn the image of the hollow city out of his mind.  Nerves, sadness, fear? Barry couldn’t explain what he was feeling.

There had only been one moment where they’d seen zombies, a group of about twenty of the monsters had been walking the other direction in the distance along the water.  They’d waited for a few minutes but the undead hadn’t detected them so the group continued on their way.

“Nothing yet from your people?” Len asked, looking quickly to his right as the Rogues reached another intersection.  As far as the eye could see, down both the empty streets, there was no company for the group besides abandoned machines and snow.

“No.”

A breeze whirred through them as they crossed the street, it sent the snow in the ground flying up into their faces and Barry covered with eyes with his hands for a moment.  “It’s so horrible and cold,” Mick Rory muttered under his breath, Barry could only hear because Mick was right behind him.

“Yeah,” Barry joked, feeling like he had to do something to lighten the mood, “what’s the point of Weather Wizard if it’s still freezing?”

“I did not agree to that name,” Mark Mardon grumbled from the back of the line.

“You don’t choose your _own_ name,” Lisa told him, “that’s not how the whole thing works.”

“I can choose my own damn name,” Mark Mardon snapped.

“Babe, we can’t all get cool names like _Arrow_ or _Flash,_ some of us deal with Peek-a-boo and Weather Wizard,” Shawna jumped in.  Her voice was forcibly cheerful.

“I named myself,” Hartley pointed out.

Mark Mardon scoffed, “And you went with _Pied Piper_?”

“To be honest, it’s been working out surprisingly well.  I wasn’t even planning on the rat or weaponized flute-”

“So that is a flute?” Barry interrupted.  He glanced over his shoulder, trusting Len to keep him from walking into anything.  “What does ‘weaponized flute’ even mean?”

“You know how Roy Bivolo does the mind control bit with the colors-” Hartley started to explain.

“'Rainbow Raider',” Barry corrected with a grin.

He stumbled on some ice in front of him and then Len was jerking Barry’s hand ever so slightly.  Barry focused on walking forward again, keeping his eyes on the bodegas and shops around them as they continued.  He briefly noticed a sign on a telephone pole with a photo of a bald man’s face, telephone number, and the inscription ‘ _looking for a girlfriend, not a joke_ ’.   _Some_ things were familiar, at least.  

“ _Rainbow Raider_ ,” Lisa repeated, laughing, “that’s horrible.  Worse than 'Captain Cold'.”

“Captain Cold is _fine,”_ Len insisted, grumbling.

“It’s stupid,” Lisa said.

“That’s the point,” Len reminded her, “people underestimate it if you play the fool and-”

“You just like being called _Captain_ ,” Lisa chuckled.

Len shrugged.

They passed another intersection, everyone silent for a moment as they tensed up their weapons or powers and looked nervously along the row of buildings.  There were apartments, abandoned cars, and no indication of human life.  Barry breathed a sigh of relief and they kept moving forward.

“Rainbow Raider is not half as bad as Weather Wizard,” Mark Mardon complained, “or Peek-a-boo.”

“I kinda like Peek-a-boo,” Shawna shrugged, “it’s cute.  Not what I was going for, but it’s cute.”

“What’s a damn _Weather Wizard_ though?  Where do you come up with these names, Flash?” Mark Mardon complained.

“Oh, it’s not him,” Mick Rory said gruffly, “it’s the guy who made the guns.”

 _“Cisco,”_ Lisa reminded Mick, her voice strangely impassioned.  

“Yeah, he comes up with the names.  I fucking love _Heatwave,”_ Mick Rory said proudly, “it’s great.  Though I wish _Cold_ would let me light a damn path ahead of us.”  His voice was directed to Len.

“We don’t need smoke giving off our position.”

There was another long pause as the group continued past another intersection.  The collective anxiety everyone was giving off was nearly enough to make Barry break out in hives.  

Barry had a feeling they were walking deeper and deeper into a murderous maze.

“Golden Glider is nice,” Lisa said happily, “reminds me of ice skating.”

“You ice skate? Really?” Shawna said with disbelief.

“I’m not Captain Cold’s sister for nothing.” Lisa shrugged.

Barry nudged Len’s side with his elbow.  “Do you ice skate, Lenny?”

“I did when I was helping Lisa practice when we were kids,” Len said calmly, “not since.”

“We should go ice skating sometime,” Lisa said, the statement aimed to Barry and not Len.

“I wonder if I can ‘speed skate’,” Barry thought out loud, grinning.

They walked by a tourist trap, a diner with a large sign out front advertising the 'Most Authentic Waffles in Central City'.  The door was busted open, one of the windows cracked with bullet holes, and lying on the floor of the entrance to the dinner were dead people, the kind who'd never been turned into zombies, their bodies in a wretched, mangled state of decay.

They passed another intersection silently, everyone on edge, and then the distracting conversation started right back up where it left off with Mick Rory grumbling, “Count me out.”

“I’d do it,” Shawna jumped in, “Hartley will too.”

“Stop volunteering me for things,” Hartley snapped at Shawna.

She didn’t seem bothered by his anger at all.  “I know you pretty well, Hartley.  You’ll totally do it.  And Mark’s going to complain the whole time but I’ll definitely make him.”

“It’s settled!” Lisa said with pride, “Lenny, you have to take us all ice skating sometime.”

“Mick and I will drink beer and watch you guys,” Mark Mardon said, his voice annoyed.

“Babe,” Shawna’s voice was suddenly low and sultry behind them, “can’t we ever be cute?  Look at Barry and Captain Cold; why can’t we be cute like that?”

Barry’s face flushed and he almost dropped Len’s hand, but Len gave his fingers a tight squeeze and didn’t let go.  

Barely audible, talking under his breath, Mark Mardon complained, “I’m not _gay.”_

“Fine.  I’m marrying Hartley,” Shawna insisted.  “Hartley, will you marry me?”

“Okay,” Hartley replied automatically.

Barry glanced behind them, a grin on his face, and watched as Shawna swung her arms around Hartley’s shoulder and stuck her tongue out at Mark Mardon.   Shawna sighed with exaggerated happiness, “Hartley’s a _doll._  He’ll play me music that _isn’t_ Frank Sinatra or the Stranglers and we can stay up late talking about Captain Cold’s dick.”

Len cleared his throat loudly as Mark Mardon growled, “Hey.”

“I don’t think I like being called a _doll,”_ Hartley said, annoyed, “maybe you should marry someone else.”

“Sure,” Shawna said, continuing her welcome and distracting peppy conversation, “Lisa?  Wanna get married?”

Barry was suddenly so grateful for all of the people around him, especially Shawna right now.  The more they talked and chatted the more they could ignore the hollow city, the wind that howled like anxiety, and the way only their voices echoed off the tall buildings.  There was nothing that broke the flow of a horror movie more than sex or comedy, that’s why the horny teenagers and comedic relief were killed first.  Somehow, with Len and the Rogues, Barry had found that relief.

“I don’t know if I want to marry you,” Lisa said, rolling her eyes, “I’d rather marry Hartley.”

“What the _fuck,_ I’m not your gay best friend, ladies,” Hartley jumped in, “I would be the worst gay best friend.  You've met me?"

"I know you're a little shit,” Lisa said, “that’s why I’d marry you.”

“Marry Len if you want a gay husband,” Hartley grumbled, with a sound behind him like he kicked at an empty can on the ground.

Len chuckled under his breath.  “Did you just suggest I marry my sister?”

 _“Hartley,_ that is _horrible,”_ Shawna teased.

“Everyone is ganging up on me again,” Hartley growled.   _“Barry,_ you’re supposed to be my friend, help me out of this.”

Barry shrugged, taking a moment to figure out what to say.  He’d been enjoying just listening to the banter of everyone but participating in it was even more distracting. _I’m surprised Len hasn’t said anything about us being too loud_ , Barry thought.  “I’ll marry you, Shawna,” Barry said.

Len pushed Barry’s arm.  

Shawna gasped with mock joy.  “Oh _goodness_ me,” she exclaimed, her every movement and infliction of her voice exaggerated on purpose, “our children would be the fastest freaks on the planet!”

“Teleporting speedsters?” Barry realized, “That’s true.”

“Just imagine the possibilities,” Shawna grinned.

 _“Stop,”_ Len said loudly, interrupting everything.

For a moment Barry thought Len was being jealous, and he opened his mouth to say something snarky about it when Barry saw Len’s gaze focused on a shadow crawling toward the at the next intersection.

The entire group was silent.  The only sound came from them lifting guns and Hartley’s machinery making a short, low whistle.  

As a single, torso of a living, growling creature crawled forward, its jagged fingernails itching through the show and Mick Rory eagerly moved forward yelling, “I’m burning that fucker!”  There was a sound coming through Barry’s ear.

Barry froze, letting go of Len’s hand to raise both of his hands to his ears.  It was just a distant crackling, a faint noise he couldn’t quite make out.   _“Hello?”_ Barry said.  Len stepped toward him in concern, standing right in front of Barry as Hartley jumped to Barry’s side.

“You heard something?” Hartley said, looking curiously right at Barry’s ear.  Hartley made a halted motion like he was reaching out to grab Barry’s shoulder and lean into him, but Len gave Hartley a sharp look and the piper stopped.

It was only the crackling noise, and it was hard to hear when Lisa yelled out “Gross” as Mick set the zombie on fire and watched the skin slowly melting on his flesh.  The nauseating smell of burned skin came up to them.

Momentarily, Barry realized he hadn’t eaten meat for almost two months and the idea that _that_  thought came to mind right as a corpse was burning grossed him out so much he almost missed the faint sound of Cisco’s voice.

He couldn’t make out words.  “Hello?” Barry repeated.

“You have to turn the volume up,” Hartley Rathaway said.  He gave a quick glance to Len, but then Hartley was reaching up to the hood of Barry’s uniform and pressing on some small, dime-sized piece of machinery behind Barry’s ear.  

And suddenly Cisco’s voice was ringing loud in Barry’s ear, so real and close Barry felt like Cisco was standing right next to him.

 _“please_ say something, tell me that’s you, because if it’s some random asshole who picked up my Flash uniform I will hurt you so bad like I will seriously do some damage, don’t test me-”

 _“Cisco,”_ Barry said as a huge grin crossed his face.  He hardly noticed Lisa inching closer to him as he spoke.  “It’s me!”

The voice on the other line was silent for a moment.  “Alright, look, you sort of sound like you but I’m going to need some confirmation-”

Barry interrupted again, he was practically vibrating in his shoes he was so excited to hear the voice of one of his friends, “It’s _me,_ Barry Allen, we fight bad guys together in STAR Labs and would some random person know your name, Cisco?”

 _I can’t believe I was so worried about hearing from my friends,_ Barry thought.  He grinned, bright and happy, eyes connecting with Len as the other man gave him a short smile.

“Holy fay-fay duh peeyen,” Cisco exclaimed, his voice sounding like a breath of fresh, un-corpsified air even though he’d just said gibberish.   _“Barry!_  Wait- listen, can you… can you wait a moment I have to find the others they’re not going to believe this holy crap it’s you?! You’re alive! We were like… dude we were _this close_ to burying a photograph of you and having like a ceremony.”

Barry blinked in surprise.   _“What?”_ He shook his head.  “Wait, who’s with you? Did anyone survive?  What do you know about Iris, Joe, or my dad?  And Caitlin?  Did-”

“Oh man, I'm sorry, Joe went to the prison two months ago and we haven’t heard from him-”

“Joe went to _prison?!”_ Barry interrupted… again.

“We thought you might be there, because of your dad, and if not Joe was going with these military guys who used to be in Central City.  But everyone who went didn’t come back." Cisco took a deep breath.  "I’m so sorry, that’s the bad news I shouldn’t have led with the bad news, dude, listen.  Caitlin, Iris, and Eddie and I are all still in Central City together.  We’re all okay.  I mean, as okay as someone can get in the apocalypse you know, which is not as fun as _anyone_ thought it would be,” Cisco said, apparently forgetting to go get anyone else in his excitement.  

Barry noticed Lisa was leaning up against his ear to listen.

 “What is he saying?” Lisa whispered to Barry.

“What are you doing?” Barry hissed at her.

“Oh!” Cisco yelled through the earpiece, “Sorry, Barry! I forgot, give me like thirty seconds to tell everyone that you’re freaking alive, wow, you’re alive _dammit.”_

“Wait, where are you guys?” Barry asked as he tried to shove Lisa off of him.  He looked pleadingly at Len but Len held up his arms in defeat, apparently not wanting to get in the middle of whatever Lisa was doing to Barry.

“Central-”

“No, I mean _where_ in Central City,” Barry exclaimed, “’cause _I’m_ here.”

Barry could hear Cisco gasp on the other line.  With a voice that had an unmistakable, wide smile to it, Cisco exclaimed, _“No_ way.”

“Yeah!” Barry said, excited.  Lisa frowned, nudging Barry’s shoulders.  
“No _way!”_

“I’m serious! We’re on Third and Port Lane right now,” Barry said, smiling so hard his face was starting to hurt.

Mick Rory stomped somewhere just out of Barry’s peripheral vision, kicking at the snow on his boots.  “Is anyone going to say ‘thanks’ for me killing the walker?” He grumbled, but Shawna shushed him.

“ _No freaking way!_ ” Cisco said and Barry could hear the clatter of some object falling to the floor.  “Oh gosh, okay look I am going to be _right back_.”

“Alright,” Barry said.

The few moments to himself let Barry adjust to the information.  Iris was okay, she was fine and safe and with Eddie Thawne, Caitlin, and Cisco.  The thought was such a relief Barry nearly forgot what he’d learned about Joe.  

Joe had gone to find Henry Allen and hadn’t come back.  

Barry rubbed his forehead, the emotions he was feeling swelling in his chest as a jumbled mess.  

“They stopped talking,” Lisa observed, pouting.  

Barry pushed Lisa off of him, finding it a bit difficult to disentangle himself.  “Seriously, Lisa, what are you doing?”

Lisa rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.  “Is this obliviousness why it took you two months to realize my brother was flirting with you?”

Len shook his head at her. “Barry, did they tell you where we were supposed to be meeting them?”

“No, but they’re in Central City,” Barry told him.

Len reached out to grip Barry’s arm tightly in a comforting gesture.  “Let’s get indoors for a bit,” Len said loudly, looking at the rest of the Rogues.  “Find a place to sit down and rest.”

* * *

Barry couldn’t believe he was sitting in a Starbucks _again,_ but the place had been right on the corner and there were comfortable seats (with no dead bodies).  

He sat on a couch in the far back of the coffee shop, trying the ignore the bustle of Mick Rory playing with his gun and the new stove while Shawna fussed over Mark Mardon’s bandages and the rest of the group searched the storage room for supplies for, what Lisa was calling it, _the most delicious chocolate latte ever that everyone just had to try_.

Barry leaned forward, elbows resting on his knee and foot bouncing.  Len sat next to him, his arm resting on Barry’s back as he silently watched.  Barry was more than grateful for Len’s wordless comfort.  

It took ten whole minutes for there to be another sound on the earpiece, and this time it was Eddie Thawne.  

“Cisco tells me you’re claiming to be Barry Allen,” came Eddie’s voice, so sudden that Barry’s body practically jolted forward.  He sounded distrustful, rough, but Barry knew Eddie and just the sound of the man’s voice, even if Barry had only grudgingly accepted the man’s presence before, felt like _home._

“Eddie,” Barry said, the wide smile on his face returning, “it _is_ me.  I made it to Central City.”

“Alright…” Eddie instantly seemed relieved, but his tone was still serious, “I’m going to need you to prove you’re Barry Allen.”

Barry blinked.  He had expected more of a welcome along the lines of _It's BARRY! Let's all run to each other slowly and dramatically with wide open arms_ , but Barry understood the need to be suspicious.  “Um… like what?  I’m the Flash?  I once stopped a fire by rotating my arms really quickly?  I like bowling? I don’t know what I can say to prove it to you, Eddie.”

There was a low sigh on the other line.  Len reached out to give Barry’s shoulder a firm squeeze.  Barry leaned against Len’s touch, the overwhelming feelings of worry, fear, and disappointment over his fathers’ absences making his foot bounce nervously at superspeed.  He rubbed his temples, closing his eyes and thinking.  

“Look um… say something only Barry would know.”

Barry wracked his brain, trying to figure out what that would be.  “Do you want me to recite my senior thesis on blood spatter and coagulation in cold case crime scenes?”

“Jeez, Barry, can you help me out here?”

“How much more obvious can it be that it’s me?” Barry tried not to yell into the earpiece, but the frustration was making his voice hard, “Is identity theft really such a big problem post-apocalypse?”

“It’s just that we didn’t hear from you for a long time-”

“The winter, it was intensely freezing, I almost _died._  I couldn’t run.”

“And…” Eddie’s voice was suddenly sympathetic, “your walkie is working now?”

“Hartley Rathaway fixed it for me,” Barry explained.

Cisco’s voice was back on the line.  “ _Hartley Rathaway_ ,” Cisco yelled in disbelief.

“Isn’t that the Pied Piper?” Eddie said, his voice still clear but more faint.

“Guys!” Barry yelled, “Just put Iris on the line!”

“Well-” Cisco started to say.

There was a faint screech on the other line and suddenly Iris’ voice came through.  It washed over Barry with a wave of familiarity, something cool and sweet and wonderful that sent his chest beating faster with the realization _My best friend in the whole world is alive_.

 _“Iris,”_ Barry breathed, so enraptured by her nostalgic voice he hadn’t paid attention to anything she’d said.

“And?” Iris asked, “Is this really Barry?”

“Of _course_ it’s me!” Barry yelled.  The other Rogues looked up at him from the other side of the Starbucks but Len waved his hand at them, gesturing for them to go back to what they were doing.  “Iris it is _so good_ to hear your voice.”

 _“Wow,_ Barry,” Iris said, excited, “I missed you so much, you have no idea.  I thought you were dead, I was so sure, and when everyone told me you were the _Flash-”_

“Iris, I’m so sorry, you should have been the first I told and-”

“It’s okay, Bear, I’m just so glad you’re alive, you sound _amazing.”_

“I’m here in Central City, Iris, I’m right here.”

Iris made a noise that sounded like a sob.  “You’re in Central City,” she repeated, her voice shaking with emotion.

The struggle in Iris’ voice made the back of Barry’s eyes and nose burn.  The _pure,_ unadulterated relief he was feeling was overwhelmingly powerful.  “I can’t believe you’re alive,” Barry said, his voice sounding weak and shaky.

“I can’t believe _you’re_ alive,” Iris insisted.  Barry could hear her breath coming in short gasps on the other line and knew she was crying.

“It’s okay, Iris,” Barry said, doing his best to sound confident when he was threatening to break down too.  Len’s hand on his back helped.  “I’m right here in Central City.  We’ll all join up together and we’ll survive the rest of this.”

 _“God,_ Bear,” Iris whispered.

“Where are you guys?”

“A… a…” Iris’ voice chocked and it took her a moment to recover, “A Brownstone by the park.  It’s only a few blocks from STAR Labs.”

“Is everyone okay?” Barry asked, and the moment the words left his mouth he was afraid of the answer.

“It’s just the five of us,” Iris told him, “god I missed you, um… so it’s Cisco, Caitlin, me and Eddie and this one guy joined us about two months ago, he’s an acrobat who was living alone over in the East Village, he’s brilliant and-”

“I missed you too,” Barry said, his voice crumbling.  His hands shook and he dropped his head in his hands, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.  After all this time, Iris was _alive._

“I can’t believe you’re okay,” Iris’ voice shook with sobs.

Barry rubbed the back of his eyes, feeling tears starting to form.  He was so relieved.  

Barry felt Len’s hands tugging on his shoulders, and he let Len lift him up to his chest.  Len wrapped his arms around Barry’s upper body and held him tight, the man’s chin pushing Barry’s head into his chest.  Barry grabbed Len’s sleeve, the only part of him he could hold on to from the position, and closed his eyes to let the sound of Iris’ familiar voice and Len’s strong arms hold him steady.

“Where are you?” Iris asked, fragile and unsure.

Barry felt like he was a preteen again, having a nightmare about his mother and too afraid to bother Joe with it, waking up in sweat and shivers only to have Iris bring him a blanket and sit up with him all night.  He loved Iris, and the love might be different now but it was just as intense.  

She was his best friend, and just hearing his voice Barry knew he never wanted to leave her alone again.  “Starbucks,” Barry struggled to say, “Third and Port Lane.”

Iris managed to choke out a laugh.   _“Starbucks,”_ she repeated with half-serious scorn.

“Oh _god,”_ Barry said, unsure why he felt like he was shaking, but Iris was _alive_ and he was going to see her _soon,_ the relief of that was so… so… so powerful, “I have had the weirdest times in Starbucks since the apocalypse happened.”

“I…” Iris’ voice was heavy with tears but overjoyed, “I can’t wait to hear about it, Bear.”

“Wow, _Iris,”_ Barry couldn’t think of anything else to say.  He didn’t want Iris to stop talking, he didn’t want Len to stop holding him tight, but he wanted more than anything to have Iris next to him right now.

“Can you run to us?” Iris asked.

Barry raised his head for a moment, almost bumping Len’s chin but he stopped at the last second.  “No, I… I’m not alone.”

Iris breathed a sigh of relief into the microphone.  “Oh, _thank god_ , Bear, I was so worried you were out there with _no one_...  Should we come to you?  We know how to navigate the streets; we can show you how to get to us safely.”

Barry turned in Len’s arms, somehow managing to sit with half his body on Len’s lap and the other on the couch, facing Len and only holding the position because Len’s arms were supporting him.  

“They say they can come to us and show us how to get back to where they are,” Barry told Len.

Len nodded.  “Are they all people you trust?”

“Mostly.  There’s one person with them that I don’t know,” Barry told Len.

Iris could hear him over the earpiece, he hadn’t switched it off, and she asked, “Who’s that?”

Barry swallowed nervously.

“If you trust them I’m fine with letting them come to us, we have to figure out what our next step is once we’re all together,” Len told Barry.  He was looking at Barry with an expression Barry didn’t quite understand.

Barry shifted in Len’s arms, and then grabbed the sides of Len’s parka to steady himself.  “Okay," he said into the earpiece, "you can meet us here.  Is this location good?”

And then it was Eddie Thawne’s voice coming through Barry’s earpiece.  “Yes, it will take us awhile to get to where you are though, hey, James-” Eddie’s voice faded out for a moment and then was back, “maybe an hour or two.  We think you and Hartley should stay put though.”

“Huh,” Barry said, frowning.  He glanced around the room, noting everyone inside.  “It’s not just me and Hartley.”

Eddie paused for a moment, and then his voice jumped to reply, “Okay, uh-um, how many people are we talking? Anyone we know?”

Barry felt an awkward lump in his throat as he looked straight into Len’s eyes to reply.  “Seven of us, including me.  There’s Hartley, Shawna Baez, Mark Mardon, Mick Rory and um… Lisa and Leonard Snart.”

“Is that a joke?”

Barry swallowed.  “No it’s… definitely not.  I promise you can trust them,” he tried to assure Eddie.

“We’re coming armed,” Eddie said, his voice suddenly rough and hard.

“Eddie, it’s okay,” Barry promised.

“We’re getting ready to leave.  Two hours.”  And then there was a click and silence.  Eddie had shut the microphone off.

* * *

“Why is it so hard to get this zipper off?” Barry growled, his hands stalled on Len’s parka. His back was pressed up against the wall, legs wrapped around Len’s hips, and the bathroom door locked behind them.  Len pressed hard kisses along Barry’s neck, something hungry and eager in his touch that Barry needed _inside_ him like now.

“Mmm,” Len mumbled.  And he slowly pushed Barry back into the wall with his hips, a long drag of their groins together.  

After forcing himself to stop tugging and take his time pulling the zipper down, Barry got the parka off and he grabbed the sides of the coat to fumble through the pockets.  Len hummed against his ear, something low and content in his touch and... Len was _not_ understanding how urgent this was.

Two hours?? Two hours?

“Come on, Len, _fuck,”_ Barry said, frustrated, grabbing through the parka’s pockets until he grasped a small tube and several square packages.  He pulled them all out, letting the spare condoms he didn’t want fall to the side, and then he gripped the lube and condom tight in his hand.  

With his hand bunched up holding the items it was hard to pull Len’s coat off his shoulders but Barry eventually managed, grinding up excessively against Len as he did.  He _needed_ to feel Len against him.  “Shirt,” Barry gasped, his hands grabbing at the tight, blue thermal Len was wearing.

Len grabbed Barry’s hands and took lube and condom.  Hands free, Barry pulled Len’s shirt up and, one arm at a time, was able to pull it off to reveal the smooth expanse of Len’s body, interrupted by the fascinating tattoos and- _fuck._  “I want you to fuck me so much right now,” Barry said through clenched teeth.

He didn't wait to look at how Len replied to that. Barry had to drop his feet to the floor so he could get to Len’s belt.  His hands flitted in and out at superspeed.  One moment Len’s jeans were on, and the next Barry was dropped to the floor pulling Len’s leg up so he could pull off everything Len was wearing.

Len shuddered when Barry’s hands ghosted on his ankles.  “Against the wall?” Len asked.

The moment Len was naked, Barry blurred himself and an instant later was kicking his uniform and boxers to the pile of Len’s clothes on the floor.  “The floor is filthy, yeah,” Barry agreed, breathless.

He threw his arms over Len’s shoulders and jumped up on him again, Len’s hands grabbing his ass and pushing him against the wall as Barry wrapped his legs around Len’s waist.  “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Barry whispered, pressing his mouth against Len’s cheek as best he could manage.  

Len hadn’t shaved this morning, Barry noticed, he could feel a light tingle of Len’s stubble against his cheek.  Barry wanted to rub his whole face against it for some reason.

Len’s movements were hard and erratic, thrusting his hips into Barry’s to get just the barest of friction.  Their mouths were not in sync at all, Barry kept pressing kisses against the stubble on Len’s chin and cheekbones and Len was turning his head to grab Barry’s lips with his own.  It was just a mess, but Barry loved it.

He dropped his hand from Len’s shoulder, and Len had to adjust the position.   _Fuck those arms_ , Barry thought. Len’s muscles were tense and strong against as he held Barry up against the wall, it was _good._   Barry's free hand grabbed their cocks together, and since the angles for stroking wasn’t making _any sense_ he vibrated his hand and just worked on adjusting his grasp.  Pressing them against each other, that beautiful, flushed, curves expanse of Len’s shaft that Barry had _memorized_ by now in the hand with Barry’s own, familiar body it was just… oh it was nice.  Len was _so good._  

Barry needed to get Len hard as soon as possible.  “I want to get you _in_ me,” Barry complained, his thumb brushing over his own shaft as his mouth pressed rough against the hollow space in Len’s cheek, “need you to hurry up, Lenny, _please.”_

“I got you,” Len mumbled, holding Barry up tight.  He let out a low, guttural moan as Barry’s hands suddenly shook faster, stronger, and his grip on Barry’s ass grew stronger.  “I got you, I always have you, I’ll always have you.”

It wasn’t fast enough, Barry let go of himself and hardly cared about the loss of sensation as long as he grabbed only Len flush in his hand.  He needed Len _hard_ now.  And he knew it wouldn’t be long, not with the motion of his hand... though all the other times Barry’d gotten Len 'ready' Barry used his mouth so maybe he should, but _fuck_ Len was kissing him now, greedy lips on Barry’s mouth, easing his lips open to run his tongue over Barry’s.

Barry’s hand on Len’s shoulder moved to the man’s neck and gripped Len tight enough to bruise even though he didn’t realize it.  Barry arched against Len, feeling so fucking _sick_ with emotional overload.  He needed a release again, but he wanted Len against him and _fuck._

Two hours.  Two hours??

His best friend in the world and his two closest friends, after he became the Flash, and they could be here so soon, and that reunion was so close Barry could nearly taste it.

Although right now he wasn’t tasting much besides Len’s teeth along the press of his tongue but it was the expression, and the- the- Barry wasn’t sure.  Everything was too much right now, he felt like there was energy shooting out of his _ears._

When Barry finally let go of Len’s cock, Len pulled away from him with a grimace and a gasp.  Barry leaned forward to try to chase his mouth, kiss him again, but the movement wasn’t possible with the position and he ended up pressing his head back against the wall.   _“Len,”_ Barry gasped, not sure if it was a statement or a question.

“You have to get down,” Len said, his clenched fist still holding the supplies.  Len dropped down as his other hand still supported Barry.  With a frown, Barry slid his legs out from Len and stood still.  He stared at Len, silent, breathing heavily and waiting.

Len adjusted to sit on knees, Barry’s already hard cock brushed against the stubble on Len’s face and Barry moaned, his hands gripping Len’s shoulders.  Len pushed Barry’s legs wider, enough for his hands to fit well in between.  There was the snapping click of a bottle opening, and then Len’s index finger was pressing cold liquid along Barry’s ass.

Barry was embarrassingly vocal through the entire process, as Len’s fingers pushed inside of him, prepping him, sliding the lubricant through his body and pushing against his prostate it was as if every filter making him silent before was just broken.  He gasped into Len’s touch, groaned with every twitch of Len’s fingers, and his mouth carried on a running anthem of curses and Len’s name and Barry didn’t care.  

By the time Len stood up and pressed the condom into Barry’s hand, Barry nearly shouted with relief.  He tore the condom wrapper with his teeth and Len’s eyes went dark at that.  Len’s hands ran slowly up Barry’s waist, fingers tracing the abdominal muscles on Barry’s stomach and chest.  “You want to scream for me,” Len leaned forward, mumbling that into Barry’s neck, _“fucking_ scream.  Let that bitch Hartley know you’re never leaving me.”

Barry had enough sense of mind left, even as he dropped the empty condom wrapper onto the floor, to mumble, “Hartley’s my friend, don’t call him that.”

“My sentiment remains the same,” Len decided, his hands gripping Barry tight.  

Barry pinched the condom and slipped it on Len.  A shiver ran down his spine and it wasn’t from the cold…. well it was from _Cold_ but not cold and it wasn’t like Barry _intended_ to think that it was just-

Len grabbed him, lifting Barry up easily and pressed Barry’s back flush against the wall.

 _“Shit,_ Len,” Barry gasped, hands scrambling for Len’s shoulders to hold himself up.  Yeah, Len could do that anytime he wanted.  Barry _liked_ that, fuck he liked how strong Len was that… was good. 

Len’s mouth pressed against Barry’s neck, placed a kiss against the skin there before his face moved up and his hot breath sent the lightning across Barry’s ear.  Barry felt empty without Len’s fingers inside him, needed Len to hold him tight and-

Len pushed him harder against the wall, one hand gripping Barry as tight as he could as the other moved to his own groin.  Len’s teeth gently dragged along the ridge of Barry’s ear and his elbow made a jerking motion Barry could barely see.  

Then he could feel Len's cock pressed against his thigh.  A hot, deep, excited anticipation sent goosebumps under Barry's skin.  Barry’s toes and fingers were already vibrating and Len hadn’t even thrust in yet, his cock rubbing against him, sliding circles along the ring of muscle his fingers had just been inside.

“L… _Len,”_ Barry said, nearly begging.  His nails pressed into Len’s skin.

“I want to hear you,” Len whispered into Barry’s skin.  His tongue slid across Barry’s earlobe.  His cock was against Barry’s entrance but not pushing in.

It wasn’t difficult for Barry to let out a moan, though it was mostly out of frustration.   _“Len,”_ he said, “can you _please_ just-”

Len thrust slowly forward into him.  Barry’s hands clenched tighter, fingers having trouble getting purchase was the energy in his body was released into them.  When Len was only an inch or so into him, his hand moved to Barry’s hips, controlling that slow, deep fuck pushing Barry down onto him.  

Barry’s head slammed against the wall, something guttural stuck in his throat as the sensation of Len filling him up sent cathartic waves throughout his body.  “Len, _Lenny,_ fuck,” Barry breathed, legs tightening and releasing, hands clenching and letting go, until Len hips hit the back of his tights and Len was fully inside him.  Barry groaned and his eyes screwed shut, neck fully exposed as he pushed the back of his head against the wall.

Len’s mouth pressed soft kisses along Barry’s chin, down to his Adam’s apple, and back along to the ridges of Barry’s jawline.  Then, the motion swift, he bounced Barry’s hips in his hands, adjusting the position of Barry on him and the motion was so _fast_ and unexpected it sent shockwaves along Barry’s groin.  

 _“Len,”_ Barry groaned.

“I got you,” Len mumbled against Barry’s lips.  He finally moved, his hips thrusting down and up as his arms held Barry steady.  Barry did his best to distribute the weight, hands clasping behind Len’s head as his forearms pushed on Len’s shoulders. It was hard to think anything coherently.

Len’s hips were like a lightning rod, the feeling of the other man sliding in and out of him, pushing roughly into the sensitive bundle of nerves in his body, was enough to make Barry forget everything.  All he wanted was this, Len’s muscles moving under his fingertips, Len’s body sending pleasure into him, and Len’s mouth whispering words he couldn’t quite hear into his lips.  

 _“Fuck,”_ Barry did his best to lift himself up, supporting his weight still on Len, and press his body down onto Len’s hips as Len moved up.  It was a slow process, hard for the rhythm to get in sync, Barry following every small motion Len made with desperation.  He couldn’t breathe, the harder Len slammed into his  prostate the more connected he felt, the more his senses focused on nothing but Len.

Eventually the pace was a steady, punishing rate; Len thrust up into him fast enough that Barry couldn’t complain, his every twitch of muscle hard and controlled, and Barry gasped, moaned, and pressed shaking lips against Len’s steady mouth. He breathed the hot air between them. It was so fucking good.  Barry didn’t want it to end, wanted to savor every second Len was holding him.

The sound of their bodies rutting against each other barely registered, the sounds Barry was making he couldn’t control, and he felt in control right then.  Like everything was going to be fine.

Barry’s orgasm came with hardly any warning, he was feeling Len hitting his prostate and a moment later his hands clenched and he was gone.  His head slammed hard enough on the wall to add pain to the pleasure, that sensation of electricity that made his entire body vibrate with the release.  He could hear Len’s low, strangled gasp through the sensations and Barry held on to that vibrating motion as long as he could manage.

Len pushed into him one more time, and then his hands were tight and Len’s chest flush against Barry’s.  Len’s mouth pressed passionately and hard into Barry’s, their jaws hitting each other roughly.

Barry went limp, his head dropped on Len’s neck and his arms slid off of Len’s shoulders.  He was on the ground in a moment, and then Len was sitting against the wall and pulling Barry into his lap.  Barry hardly noticed the change, but he lay compliant in Len’s arms and was suddenly exhausted beyond belief.  

Len kissed his forehead.

Barry wondered how much time was left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barry is demanding. 
> 
> Is everyone cool with me introducing James Jessie as the suave, Italian, non-homicidal acrobatic Trickster he is from the comics and not that mess from the TV show?? Yes? Okay. That is what I'm doing.
> 
> And with this chapter I break 100,000 words. This was not at all what I was expecting and it's my fault for never writing with a clear outline.


	21. Nice to Meet You (Again)

Central City; late afternoon

Barry was sure Len couldn’t be comfortable, the man was standing behind Barry on the stool with his arms wrapped him and his head resting on Barry’s shoulder, and he’d been that way for nearly thirty minutes.  Barry wasn’t going to bring it up, not when the thing he wanted right now more than anything was Len touching him to calm him down.  And no one else seemed to mention it either.

Still, he thought, taking a sip of whatever it was Lisa had bullied Mick into being a sous chef for.  It was full of sugar, a little bit of milk that must have come from a powder or was non-dairy, and tasted like a mix of hot chocolate and a latte.  It was good.

“You want some?” Barry asked, turning his head just slightly.

Len shifted enough to let go with one of his hands, taking the mug Barry was holding.  He took a sip and gave it back to Barry.  “Yeah, it’s good,” he said into Barry’s shoulder as he adjusted back to how he’d been before.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Shawna said loudly from the booth where she was sitting with Mark Mardon, “why don’t you treat me like _that?”_

“Like what?” Mark Mardon, who’d been lying down comfortably with his latte and resting his bruised ribs, jerked upward with surprise.

Shawna gestured to Leonard and Barry, and Barry grinned at her.  “Look at them, they’re adorable.  Why aren’t you cuddling me while I drink my coffee?”  She said, giving Mark a soft push on his arm.

Mick Rory, who had been ordered to stand behind the counter by Lisa and use his gun to simmer a coffee pot, looked up at Mark Mardon with a grin that looked like a snarl.  The unsteady light from the flame gun kept illuminating Mick Rory’s scars, and if it wasn’t the middle of the afternoon the effect would be creepy.  “Oi, Mick, looks like if you don’t treat your girl right she’ll come running to me,” Mick grumbled.

Shawna rolled her eyes.  

“Does that mean you’re done attempting to have sex with me?” Lisa asked, walking into the room with a box full of powders and sugar.  She set it down on the counter with a huff and rubbed her hands together.  

Leonard shot to attention, hands dropping from Barry’s shoulders.  “You did _what?”_ He snapped, his voice loud and thundering.

It was enough that everyone in the coffee shop stopped moving immediately and stared.

“I…” Mick Rory flicked the switch on his gun, turning it off, and swallowed.  He couldn’t seem to look in Len’s eye.

Len stepped around Barry, walking up to the counter right in front of Mick.  “Mick,” he said with a dangerous tone that wasn’t going to be ignored.

“Sheesh, Lenny,” Lisa said, trying to seem calm but her voice was nervous, “it was only a couple times and he only _asked,_ he didn’t touch me or anything.”

Len glared at Mick Rory and some sort of wordless communication passed between them.  Mick’s hand tightened around his heat gun.  “I had a _very_ short list of rules for you to follow,” Len said through clenched teeth.

“Len,” Barry stood up, moving over to him, “Lisa said it’s not a big deal.”

Len didn’t even flinch.  He and Mick looked at each other for a moment, something tense and unreadable passing between them.

“She was the _only_ woman around, Len,” Mick Rory said slowly.  He seemed to want to defend himself, and at the same time back down from the fight.  

“Lisa isn’t a woman to _you,_ Mi- _ck_ ,” Len pronounced the man’s name with scorn, “she’s my _sister.”_

“Lay off him, Lenny,” Lisa urged, not moving at all from her position.  She locked eyes with Barry and made a motion toward Len with her head.

Mick raised his hands to his side, one hand still holding the heat gun.  “I never touch’d your sister, Len,” Mick said, “never would if she didn’t want me to.”

“Not ‘if she didn’t want me to’,” Len snarled, _“ever.”_

“You don’t need to _protect_ me from your own friend, Len, I can handle myself-” Lisa began to say but after a sharp glare from Len she stopped.  Lisa clenched her jaw shut and frowned at the two of them.  “I almost said yes to him, Len.  What would you have done if I did that?” She baited.

Len’s knuckles were white at his sides.

“Alright, _everyone,”_ Barry said loudly, stepping next to the counter between Len and Lisa.  He raised his hands in a gesture of peace.  “Let’s calm down.”

“You almost said yes-” Mick said, dropping his hands to his sides and looking at Lisa in surprise.

Lisa sighed.  “You were the only man around, Mick.”

Leonard cleared his throat angrily and brought the focus back on him.  His eyes trained solely on Mick, he answered Lisa’s question, “If you had said ‘yes’ to Mick, I’d have frozen him solid and thrown him to the undead.”

Mick swallowed.

“Len!” Barry grabbed Len’s arm, pulling him away from the counter.  Len resisted for a moment and then he reluctantly allowed himself to be moved.

“Don’t do it again,” Len said, with a final glare at Mick Rory.  Mick breathed a sigh of relief.

And then Shawna was mumbling something to Mark about cuddling, and Hartley was back to playing low tones on his flute as Antoinette sniffed a still-frozen Danish on a table.  Lisa slammed a can of powdered chocolate on the counter and Mick started reheating the coffee with his gun.  

Barry almost left his cup on the counter but remembered to grab it at the last second.  Then he pulled Len through the doors of the Starbucks, right between the entrance and exit in that short, secluded space made to cut down on air conditioning costs.  It could have been romantic without the trashcans there, but then again Barry and Len had sex in the Starbucks bathroom just over an hour ago; ‘ _location, location, location_ ’ didn’t seem to matter anymore.

“What was that about?” Barry asked, grabbing Len’s arm and staring at him.

Len raised his eyebrow.  “What?”  And then, like he couldn’t help himself, Len smiled while he looked at Barry.  He raised his hand to his mouth, trying to cough to cover it, and Barry rolled his eyes at him.

“Mick was about to _fight_ you,” Barry said urgently.

“I was about to fight Mick,” Len agreed.

Barry frowned.   _“Len,”_ he said.

Len grinned at him, his hand rubbing along his chin and fingers pressing against his top lip to try and hide it.  

“Stop,” Barry grabbed Len’s wrist and forced his hand down.  “Stop smiling like that, this is serious.”

Len laughed and Barry pushed him lightly.  “Sorry,” Len said, his shoulder shaking as he couldn’t seem to stop, “it’s funny.”

_“What’s_ funny, you and Mick almost having a shoot out?”

“I don’t know,” Len said, grinning brightly at Barry.

Barry glared at him.  “You have to be _careful,_ Len,” Barry said sternly.

Len stepped into Barry’s space, his hands reaching for Barry’s shoulders and then gently brushing down to the small of his back.  “You look good in red,” Len drawled, leaning in to kiss him.

Annoyed, Barry backed up out of his grip.   _“Len,”_ he said, frustrated.

_“Barry,”_ Len said in the same tone.

Barry sighed, rubbing his temples.  Len stepped forward slowly this time, his hands hesitating for a moment as if he was waiting for Barry to step back again, but Barry shuffled his feet forward and then Len wrapped his arms around him.  “You,” Barry said, lifting his arms to rest on Len’s shoulders, “are going to promise me something.”

Len pressed his mouth against Barry’s cheekbone.  “Hm?” he mumbled against Barry’s skin.  

Barry’s body still felt over-sensitive, and Len’s touches only reminded him that the two had been locked together, fucking against a wall just over _an hour_ ago.  Barry could practically still feel it.  He wondered if it was obvious, if Len could feel the way Barry’s skin vibrated when Len touched him.  “Let Lisa do whatever she wants, or whoever she wants,” Barry said carefully.

Len moved his head back to look Barry in the eye.  His forehead wrinkled with confusion and mouth dropped unhappily.   _“Why?”_ He asked stiffly.

“Everyone needs an anchor, Len.  You have me, and Lisa wasn’t happy about that at first either but it worked out.  If Lisa wants to sneak off with… with Mick or Cisco-”  
Len snorted.

Barry continued, “just let her do it.  She deserves to be distracted from how shitty everything is too.”

Len had an unreadable expression on his face for a long moment and Barry started to be afraid he’d done something wrong.  Knowing what he did about Len’s childhood with Lisa, he could see exactly why Len would be fiercely overprotective but… Barry didn’t want Len to get hurt over it, picking fights when he didn’t have to.  “Not Mick,” Len told Barry, “Mick’s unpredictable and violent.  Lisa needs to be with someone she can control not someone who could hurt her.”

“Okay,” Barry said, relieved.  He dropped his hands, fiddling with straightening Len’s coat because it gave him something to do.  “It would be better to talk to her about it in private than getting confrontational and trying to kill your best friend.”

Len shrugged.

“Don’t hurt yourself over something stupid,” Barry urged.

Len frowned.  “Protecting my sister isn’t _stupid.”_

“That’s not what I meant, Len, and-”

Len looked sharply outside, his eyes fixed on a point down the road.  Barry blinked for a moment, and then turned his head to look where Len was pointing.  Barry let out a breath he wasn’t holding, feeling winded suddenly as a jolt of anticipation shot through his stomach.

Five dark figures walked down the center of the road, too far away to see clearly, but they were walking in a clear group and didn’t have the shuffling motion of a zombie.  
Len slowly lowered Barry’s hand and took the coffee mug out of it.  “I got it,” Len told him, his other hand reaching up to brush something on Barry’s cheek, “go on.”

“That’s them,” Barry said, his hands shaking.

“You going to make them wait, Flash?” Len asked, taking a sip of the coffee.  Barry looked at him and Len smirked.

Barry didn’t bother lifting his hood up, he felt the lightning pulling at his feet and then he pivoted around Len’s still form.  He pushed the door hard with two hands, barely able to wait for the metal to slam open, and the moment it did he was racing down the road in a flash.  The figures became clear in a moment.

Barry rushed to Iris and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

Iris had dark circles under her eyes, was holding a hatchet in her hands, but her clothes looked like they’d been well washed and she didn’t look like she’d lost any weight.  She was so beautiful, her hair in wild curls, with her big brown eyes and familiar features.  Barry had his arms around her in a hug before he could think to stop himself.

For Iris, it had probably seemed like one moment she was walking and the next her arms were full of Barry.  

The hatchet clattered to the floor, and Iris’ arms were around Barry’s back.   _“Barry!”_ She yelled, a mix shock and happiness.

_“Iris!”_ Barry pulled back, grabbing her face with his hands and grinning at her.  “My _god,_ Iris,” he whispered suddenly. He lowered her head to kiss her forehead.

Iris grinned at him, her face morphing into the most beautiful, most pleasant, most nostalgic thing Barry had seen in his entire life.  “I can’t believe it,” she exclaimed brightly.

“Barry!” Cisco’s voice yelled from the side, and he was grabbing Barry in a hug from the side.  

Smiling, Barry pulled back enough to wrap his arms around the both of them.  Cisco looked so much the same, his gray hoodie and t-shirt was full of holes and his hair much longer than it had been when Barry’s seen him before, but he still was Cisco.  Bright, happy, goofy, Cisco.

“I know it’s crowded in that group hug but…?” Caitlin said, and Barry jerked up to look at her.  She was thinner, if that was possible, her cheeks hollow and wide eyes looking bigger even without any makeup on her face.  But she was happy, unhurt, alive, the relief in her face obvious.

“Caitlin!” Barry yelled joyfully.

Deciding that was an invitation, Caitlin bounced a bit on her heels and then moved forward to wrap her arms around Barry’s other side.  For one long, beautiful moment Barry’s head knocked together against three of the people he’d missed, and it was great, awkward, a little hot and weird, really bone-y, someone stepped on his foot, but _wonderful._

Eventually, they pulled apart, though Iris’ hand lingered on Barry’s chest.  Barry impulsively took the hand in his own and held it tight.

Eddie Thawne, smiling but with a suspicious look in his eye, stepped forward into Barry’s view.  There was a muscled, strong looking blonde man with ridiculously bright colored leggings and jacket behind Eddie, and the man was crossing his arms in front of him, whistling and looking in the opposite direction.  

“Barry,” Eddie said slowly, and then, with a surge of emotion, pulled Barry into a hug.  Iris joined them then, as Barry awkwardly tried to figure out how to reciprocate with Eddie pinning his arms to his sides, but Iris wrapped her arms around the both of them, her head resting in between them, and it was good.

Eddie pulled away, rubbed the back of his neck, and said, “You kissed my girlfriend,” in a confused tone.

_Oh, right,_ Barry had definitely just kissed Iris.  On the forehead, but still.  And considering the way he’d parted with Iris before, confessing that he loved her and not having it reciprocated, it was intensely strange.  

“Is it just me or did this reunion suddenly get weird?” Cisco muttered to Caitlin.

“It’s entirely weird,” said the brightly colored man behind them with a hint of an Italian accent.

Barry looked between Eddie and Iris with wide eyes, noticing Iris’ rising blush and Eddie’s concerned expression.  “That was… definitely platonic,” Barry explained, “she’s… I mean, you know me and Iris and… I’m dating someone, um, you know, and I didn’t mean to-” 

“Eddie is just being overprotective,” Iris said immediately, rescuing Barry.  Though, she didn’t rescue Barry until _after_ Barry swore it was platonic… Barry couldn’t bring himself to care.  This was _Iris._

“How have you been?!” Cisco asked, jumping in front of Barry.  His shirt was from _Jurassic Park_ and Barry almost burst into laughter at the sight.  Some people didn’t change.

“Amazing!” Barry said immediately, and then when there was an awkward pause he thought about that for a moment and corrected, “I mean, not entirely amazing.  It’s been… there have definitely been terrible parts.  I broke my ankle.  Cannibals.  And zombies! The zombies, of course.” He awkwardly stepped back, looking at everyone and not sure how to explain himself.  How _could_ he explain himself?  

And who the heck was that guy in all those colors? Didn’t he get the memo that everyone in a zombie apocalypse dresses in gray?

“Dude, the zombies have been the _worst,”_ Cisco complained with a grin that threatened to split his face apart.

“We were trapped in STAR Labs for almost five weeks,” Iris told Barry, leaning forward to explain.  Her voice was beautiful, familiar, soft- Barry wasn’t sure he was ever going to get over the shock of seeing Iris alive and in front of him again.

“We were stuck in this safe house in Indiana,” Barry empathized, “and then kept getting snowed in in this tiny van, I mean, the RV is much better but we picked up the other Rogues on the way so-”

“Yeah…” Caitlin said slowly, sharing a look with Cisco, “are you okay, Barry?” Her voice was kind, careful.

Barry laughed.  It was a bright, unexpected, happy laugh that threatened to bowl him over.  “I’m _fine,_ I’m definitely fine, Lisa made you all hot chocolate lattes I think,” he said pleasantly.

“Lisa… Snart?” Eddie said in disbelief.  

Barry noticed right then that, true to Eddie’s word, the people in front of him were armed to the teeth.  There were two pistols tucked into Cisco’s belt loops, a strap for an automatic gun across Caitlin’s shoulder and waist, Iris had a knife visibly tucked against a strap of cloth on her jeans as well as the hatchet now on the road, Eddie himself had a shotgun strapped to his side and his police issued handgun in its holster, and the other guy, that brightly colored Italian person Barry didn’t know, had a backpack (similarly garish with bright yellows and green), and was holding a hammer down at his sides.

Well, the Rogues back in the coffee shop were armed to the teeth too.

“Yeah,” Barry said.  He looked at Cisco for a moment, wondering if now would be a good time to warn Cisco about Lisa’s… interest.  

Iris was picking the hatchet up from the road and brushing off the snow.

“It’s okay!” Barry insisted, “I promise.  It’ll be fine.  No one wants to hurt anyone, we’re all just trying to find a way to survive here.  Believe me the only thing the Rogues are worried about is being safe.”

“I want to be very clear, Barry,” Eddie said.  He stepped forward, a fiercely protective look in his eye.  “You trust the Rogues?”

“Completely,” Barry said, and the intensity of that word made Cisco and Caitlin blink in surprise. _Is now a good time to explain…?_ Barry swallowed, not sure where to go from here.

“And,” Eddie continued, frowning, “you want _us_ to team up with the _Rogues?”_

“Of course,” Barry told him.  Cisco looked pale, and kept glancing at Caitlin then back to Barry, and Caitlin was wringing her shirt in her hands and anxiously looking at the Starbucks three blocks away.  “Iris,” Barry said, feeling a bit guilty, “I trust them, I _swear.”_

Iris looked into his eyes and, a serious expression on her face, nodded.

“Listen, Barry, I know you might have been traveling with them,” Eddie started to say.  Then he stepped forward, grabbing Barry’s arm, and moving literally one step away to whisper into Barry’s ear ( _Everyone can still hear you,_ Barry thought), “I’m not comfortable bringing my group together with those criminals.”

“It’s _fine,”_ Barry insisted.  He took a moment to push his arm out of Eddie’s grasp and then turned to the entire group.  “The Rogues are not our enemies,” he said, feeling oddly like Braveheart, “We can trust them.  Lisa made you _lattes.”_

“Is Hartley…” Cisco asked nervously, looking at the Starbucks.

Barry waited for Cisco to finish, but he didn’t, so Barry said, “Hartley fixed the Flash suit.”

Cisco grimaced.  “Bet he couldn’t wait to get his grubby little hands all over it.”

Barry wasn’t sure how to deal with this.  The Rogues were his friends, and Len way more than that, but in front of him were his old friends and _of course_ they hated each other; Barry had no idea what to do.

“Barry,” Eddie said, “if we left here right now without the Rogues-”

The idea of leaving Len shot through Barry’s chest like a lightning bolt.  His eyes widened instantly.  “Leave?” Barry said, fumbling with disbelief, “Are you- kidding?! I’m not, we’re not _leaving them_!”

The five people in front of him watched Barry silently, and Barry couldn’t think of what to do.  He rubbed his temples, nervous, his head starting to hurt.  Briefly, he wished he’d brought his coffee.  “Look, guys, I know you distrust the Rogues, I know these people have hurt you in the past,” Barry said passionately, taking a moment to look at the four of his friends each, “but we have to put that aside to survive here.  The Rogues and I have been together for awhile and we’ve- we’re friends.  They’re okay once you get to know them, and they’re not trying to blow up the city.  Those people back there?  They’re _people_ too, and honestly, we are in short supply of other living human beings.”  Barry gestured to the empty buildings around him.

Iris was the first to step forward.  “Lead the way, Barry.  Let’s meet our new group.”

“Good, I think you will like-” Barry started to say and then he stopped.  He had to fight the urge to smack himself in the head.  “Iris! Shit, I mean I… So I’m the _Flash!”_  He gestured wildly, not sure if he was explaining himself right.  There was still something awkward, this painful feeling that he did wrong by listening to Joe and choosing to lie to her.

A sad expression crossed Iris’ face but it was gone soon as she looked at Barry.  “I can’t be mad at you, Bear, you’re _alive._  But if you ever,” Iris stepped forward, poking a finger against Barry’s chest playfully, “keep a big secret like that from me again I will unleash vengeance.”

_Is this the right time to talk about Len?_ Barry thought nervously.  “Right so-” He started to say.

“And…” Iris looked Barry from head to toe, taking in the Flash uniform, “wow!” She was smiling.

“I know!” Barry said, happy to have an excuse to delay talking about Len and also… he was _the Flash_ and it was _awesome._  “Wait, Iris, wait right here just, okay, I have to show you something amazing!”

“A little braggy, don’t you think?” Iris joked, laughing at him.

“Watch!” Barry said, beaming at her.  He grabbed his hood and flung it down over his face.  Then in a flash he turned toward the buildings and was running.  The lightning familiar, his body moving insanely fast but his mind could keep up with it.  He could feel the electricity crackle under his feet when he first jumped onto the side of the building, and then Barry was running.  The speed he had to run to scale a skyscraper was familiar now, a hardly noticeable change in his pace.  

He led with the balls of his feet, tapping quickly and moving up the side of the building until he reached the top.  Once he got to the edge, Barry grabbed it and stopped.  He was what, fifty stories up? 

Barry waved from the top of the skyscraper down to the dark figures below.  The motion was continuous, his velocity still pulling him around and he twisted his body in a circle.  For half an instant he was airborne. 

Then his foot hit the edge of the building and he was running down, faster than he could fall, and his toes hit the pavement quickly.  He ran forward, doing a wide circle around the group to dispel the force of his speed, and then stopped right in front of Iris, exactly where he’d started.  He ripped the hood off, making some motion that seemed to say ‘tada’ but it ended up looking like uncoordinated flailing.  

Iris stared at him, a bright grin across her face.

“Show off!” Cisco yelled happily.

* * *

Barry opened the door to see the Rogues sitting silently around the coffee shop, all of them facing the door with apprehension in their faces.  Shawna and Mark were still in their booth (was that a literal dark cloud over Mark’s head or was it just the lights?); Lisa was leaning against the counter, holding a coffee pot handle and frowning.  She gave Barry a nervous, half-smile when Barry entered.  Mick Rory was in the far back corner, holding a coffee cup with his heat gun lying on his lap ready to use and looking thoroughly chastised, his eyes weren’t lifting up off the floor.  Hartley Rathaway was in the same seat as before, a comfortable chair with a table in front of him, though Antoinette was nowhere to be seen now and Hartley had a rough, prideful look in his eye.

“Where’s Len?” Barry asked, looking around the room and then at Lisa.  

Eddie walked in right behind Barry, the others followed soon after.

“He just went in the back to get the cups,” Lisa said right as the storage door opened and Len walked in carrying a box.  He wasn’t wearing the parka, the muscles of his chest clearly defined by the tight thermal shirt.  He set it down on the counter, casting a quick glance to the people huddled by the door, and then nonchalantly ripped the duct tape off the top of the box with his hunting knife.  He pulled out five of the paper cups and set them by Lisa.  

Lisa watched the group of new people carefully even as she poured her coffee mixture.

Barry could hear Cisco swallowing nervously behind him.

Barry opened his mouth to speak but Leonard beat him too it, with that sardonic drawl that was so familiar, “I hear you want to join my gang.”  Len leaned over the counter, smirking.  He looked between Caitlin and Iris, and then something in his eyes recognized Caitlin and he focused on Iris.  “I’m Leonard Snart,” Len said specifically to her.  He held his hand out for her to shake over the counter.  “You must be Iris West.  It’s a pleasure.”

Iris stepped forward to shake his hand, but Eddie stopped her.  “I’m Edward Thawne,” he said firmly, meeting Len’s gaze in a way that Barry thought was fairly impressive, “Iris is my girlfriend.”

Lisa laughed.  “Oh my, he’s not _flirting_ with her,” she scoffed, her voice shaking with something like a giggle.  She finished pouring the lattes.  “Look, darlings, we have a peace offering.  Coffee and also Barry, since we saved his life and all.”

Barry stepped forward first, and then remembered the coffee wasn’t for him but he stood over next to the counter instead.  He looked at Len, making some gesture, and Len shrugged and the man said, “I already drank yours.  You want another one?”

“No, I’m good,” Barry decided.

Barry leaned against the counter with his elbows, standing on the side closer to Len, and gave his old friends a pleading smile.

Lisa turned to Barry with mischief in her eyes and said in a babying tone, _“Good,_ Lassie.  Good boy.  You chose right, yes you _did,_ good little Lassie.  Who’s a good boy?” 

Barry glared at her.  

Hartley laughed, and then covered that up with a cough and tried to make himself look small in the corner.  

“I could use another latte,” Shawna called out from the corner, “if the Flash’s buddies don’t want any.”

“I would _love_ coffee,” Iris said loudly.  Stepping away from Eddie, she walked briskly up to the counter and took one of the cups.  She flashed Lisa a quick, unsure smile, and then walked right in front of Len with her arm outstretched.  “It’s nice to meet you,” Iris announced.

Len grinned and shook her hand.  “You’re right,” he said to Barry was he looked at Iris with approval, “I do like her.”

“So…” Iris West said, glancing from Len to Barry.  “You’re um… _Captain Cold_?”  She made quotation marks with her free hand.

Leonard nodded.

“Oh!” Cisco said suddenly, walking forward with Caitlin for the coffee.  “You’re using the Captain part of it now?”

“Hey!” Mark Mardon said suddenly, not moving since he was lying down holding his side, but he sat up as much as he could without pain and glared, “Are you the idiot who named me _Weather Wizard_? They won’t stop calling me that! Fuck you!”

“Gee, Wiz, hush,” Shawna shushed him.  

Cisco was frozen, looking at Mark Mardon with worry.

The Italian man in the bright colors gave an exaggerated yawn and then walked forward to take one of the cups.  He sat down at the side of the coffeeshop by the window, away from everyone, and shrugged his backpack to the floor with a sigh of relief.

“Don’t worry about him,” Lisa said, her eyes fixed intently on Cisco.  She picked up a coffee and set it in Cisco’s hand, her fingers lingering, “I’ll protect you.”  Lisa winked.

Caitlin, holding the coffee nervously, spun around the room in a circle trying to find a place she could stand where her back wouldn’t be to one of the Rogues, and then she stepped back to lean on the door, her eyes downcast.  Cisco, swallowing hard and looking at Lisa in confusion, followed her.  As he passed by Eddie, the two men shared a look, and then Eddie was stepping forward taking a cup of coffee.  Eddie didn’t drink out of it.

“Barry seems to trust you,” Eddie said in disbelief.  He was watching Len carefully.

“Interesting,” Len said with a smirk.  He tilted his head to Barry.  “Do you trust me, Flash?”

Shawna, Mark, and Hartley all laughed in the corner though the sound was cut off quickly when Lisa frowned at them.  Barry could guess that Len had ordered the Rogues to be silent.  After all, this meeting was important.

If Eddie, Iris, and the STAR Labs gang all decided they didn’t want to join forces with the Rogues then…  Barry wasn’t…

He would have no idea what to do.

The importance of the meeting made his throat dry.  “You know,” Barry said, his voice catching in his throat and he had to cough to clear it, “I actually think I’d like another latte.”

“I got you,” Lisa said in a sing-song voice.  She grabbed another paper cup from the box.

The phrase made a blush rise furiously on Barry’s face.   _‘I got you’_ , he remembered, hearing the phrase in Len’s voice, remembering Len’s arms holding him up and that dark, graveling whisper Len said it in.  Barry dropped his head onto his palm, sighing, and accepted the coffee.  He drank it, hardly noticing how scalding it was.

Len straightened up, walking a step over so he was standing straight in front of Eddie with only the counter in between them.  With his commanding, more Captain-Cold-esque voice, Len said seriously, “Let’s talk logistics.”

“I haven’t decided if I trust you yet,” Eddie said, frowning.

“You’re the leader of your merry band?” Len asked, “Or is it Miss West?”

“It’s me,” Eddie said seriously.

Iris stepped around the corner to stand next to Barry.  Her presence was like a breath of fresh air, and Barry lifted up his head.  She leaned over the counter next to him, flashing him a kind smile.

“What’s not to trust?” Len asked, gesturing toward the group, “All of these people are alive because of me.  It’s a fairly good resume.”

“You’re a criminal,” Eddie said, glaring.

“I don’t see any organized government around that can prove that statement, seems like all our records are expunged,” Len countered, smirking.

“I don’t think we can work together,” Eddie said.

“Eddie!” Iris straightened up, frowning at him.

_“Wait,_ Iris,” Eddie assured her, not backing down from Len’s gaze.  Barry had been at the receiving end of Len’s stare many times, he knew how hard it was to break off of that, and how much Len could easily get under your skin.  

“Leonard,” Barry said carefully, “maybe the four of us should talk somewhere else?”

“We can do this here,” Eddie decided for them.  Eddie was so often a kind, caring, happy-go-lucky type of person but Barry knew there was more to the officer than that.  There was a protective look in Eddie’s eye, and he knew the man would do anything to ensure Iris and his group’s safety.  Barry wished he understood what _Len_ was doing.

Len tilted his head as he spoke, “Ask me anything.”

“You’re the leader of your group?” Eddie asked.

“Yes,” Len replied curtly.

Under her breath, while pouring herself a latte, Lisa whispered, _“Testosterone.”_  Iris couldn’t help but shoot the woman a smile.

“And what would you expect the new group to look like if we did work together?” Eddie asked angrily.

“I’d be the leader,” Len replied.

“That’s not happening,” Eddie frowned.

“It is.  I have three meta-humans with me, a man who can control emotions and sonic vibrations with sound, and three super-powered guns.  I have an _army,_ but you have yourself, three smart but inexperienced fighters, and a… clown,” Len made a dismissive gesture to the Italian in bright colors.

The Italian man laughed into his coffee.

Eddie’s jaw clenched and he narrowed his eyes.  “What do you mean, _three_ meta-humans?”

“Shawna, Mark, and Barry, respectively,” Len said.

“Barry is one of us,” Eddie demanded.

Len raised an eyebrow and momentarily glanced at Barry.  “I think you’ll find the arrangement is more complicated than that,” he said cryptically.  “In any _respect,”_ Len looked back at Eddie, enunciating his words harshly, “I know quite a lot more about survival in dangerous than an average cop.  I am _very_ good at keeping my people alive.  And I don’t need you.”

“Then why are you offering?” Eddie frowned.

“I want the Flash,” Len said calmly, “I have a vested interest in keeping him with me.  But your merry band? The only person I’d actually care to have around is Cisco Ramon.”

Cisco’s head shot up.  “Me?” He asked, confused.

“You made our guns,” Len said, still looking at Eddie.

Hartley stood up from the corner of the room, the cowl on his face falling to his shoulder.  “ _I_ could make you guns,” Hartley snapped.

Len turned to him.  “Didn’t I tell you to _wait_ and be _quiet_?” He asked calmly.  Hartley’s hands clenched at his sides but, after a long moment, he sat down in the seat and threw the hood over his face.

“If you don’t care about anyone but Barry and Cisco’s survival, why would I trust you?” Eddie asked.

Len rolled his eyes, as if talking to Eddie was like talking to a child.  “I’m not about to start killing off people.  The key to survival here is to _have_ a large group.  I’m sure that all of you will have your uses and we can manage to get along.”

“Get along? With you?” Eddie snapped.

“Some people,” Len’s eyes flickered to Barry for a second, “find me pleasant.”  With a sigh, he stretched his arms and continued, “The question is, will we find any happy medium here? We all have the same goal, but you have to decide if you’re dumb enough to refuse an ally.”

“You mean if I will submit to you,” Eddie said angrily.

“I think we’re getting a little caught up in ‘who will lead who’ and not ‘where do we go from here’,” Len stated.  “Our goal since the start was to get back to Central City.”

“And?” Eddie asked.

Len shrugged.  “I succeeded.  Obviously.”

“Look,” Barry jumped in, “the plan is just to survive and find the other survivors, right? And be prepared in case we get attacked by zombies, raiders, or the Reverse Flash comes back? We can unload the RV into the Brownstone next to where you guys are staying, and after that we’ll just work on hoarding any viable supplies, right?  If any big decisions happen the two of you can talk it own logically.”

Eddie nodded at the sense of that, but he frowned on Barry.  “So whose side are you on, Barry?” Eddie asked firmly, “Are you going to stay with us? Because you have not been acting like yourself.”

“I’ve been acting like myself,” Barry protested.

“Eddie,” Iris warned, “there have been three whole months we haven’t been around each other.  Can we not get into a fight the first day?”

“We have to figure this out,” Eddie explained, his thumb brushing on his gun holster before his hand fell to his side.  “This is about the future of both of our groups.”

“Agreed,” Leonard nodded.  “Though I’m not sure how splitting up our roles will… _proceed_ in the future, I’m sure Barry will make do as a mediator between us if we have an issue.”  His eyes carefully scanned the room.  “We all certainly have a confusing history, but none of my Rogues want anyone else dead.”

In the corner booth, Mark Mardon snorted.

“I can play separate but equal city-states,” Leonard said to Eddie, “can you?”

“I don’t see why I should.  How do I know you won’t double-cross Barry again?  There has been nothing in our ‘history’ to make me believe you’re a man of your word,” Eddie said.

Barry took a deep breath.  “If you trust me, you can trust Leonard,” Barry told Eddie.

“You’re really going to go out on a limb for _Cold_?” Eddie asked Barry, his jaw clenched and shoulders tense.

“Yes,” Barry said slowly.  He swallowed, and then glanced at Iris, Cisco, and Caitlin in turn.  “We’re dating?”

Iris looked at Barry in surprise.  “Oh?” She asked, “Him?”

“Yeah,” Barry told her, and when he looked up at Len he caught sight of the other man grinning at him.  Barry had to struggle to keep himself from smiling.  “So uh… I can definitely attest that Lenny is trustworthy.”

Cisco walked quickly forward in the room followed by Caitlin.  “Wait… the- that guy?” Cisco asked, pointing straight at Len.

“Gross,” the Italian man in the corner mumbled under his breath, looking out the window away from the scene in the coffee shop.

“Yes,” Len said, smirking.

“Uh…” Caitlin looked nervously at Barry, “Barry you- remember- that’s Leonard Snart, remember?”

“I think,” Barry said carefully, trying to smile but it came out as a grimace, “if we all just got to know each other…?”

“He’s a… he?” Cisco asked Barry.

“Yeah,” Barry apologized.

“It’s very nice to meet you!” Iris said loudly, attempting to break the moment.  “I can’t say I’ve heard much about you-”

“He’s the guy who stole my gun,” Cisco frowned.

“He’s stolen a _lot_ of things, he has a criminal record a mile long,” Caitlin added.

“He tortured my brother to get me to tell him Barry’s identity,” Cisco continued.

“He’s pretty much as close to a sworn enemy as you can get besides Wells,” Caitlin said finally.

Len thought for a moment, grinning.  “All of that _is_ true,” he admitted.

“Things are definitely complicated,” Barry admitted, “but I _promise_ if we all could just get to know each other-”

Eddie interrupted him.  “Barry, are you sure this isn’t Stockholm Syndrome?”

_“Okay!”_ Lisa yelled, stepping forward, and at that exact same moment Iris hissed, _“Eddie!”_ angrily.  The two women shared a glance, and then Lisa nodded and began to talk.   Lisa put her hand on Len’s shoulder.  “We _all_ have some very honest grievances with each other,” Lisa said in a calm, sort of sing-song voice, “we stole some things. Someone attempted to destroy the city with a tsunami.  And your crew locked most of our friends up in solitary confinement without a trial.  That is _very_ illegal.” She grimaced and twisted the expression into a smile.  “So maybe we’re all criminals,” she gushed, “which is very sweet.  But.  But, um…”

Lisa’s voice went back to normal, her expression suddenly serious, “We all have two things in common.  Not wanting to die, and Barry Allen.  I think those two things might just make some friends out of us.”  She winked at Cisco.  “Or more.  But the fact remains, _we_ have a nice collection of pancake mix, and your group knows where the safe place to sleep is.”

Iris nodded.  “So,” Iris agreed, “I think she makes a great point.”

Eddie glared at Len, and Len returned the look with his own chilly gaze.  

“I think we have a _lot_ of catching up to do,” Barry said nervously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone in agreement that Rogue Air was the greatest thing? Just like, the greatest? Yes. 
> 
> Man, juggling 12 people in one scene is not the easiest task but after this I have plans to handle everything without overloading my brain. We gotta get this ball rolling so. Yep. Barry & the Rogues and the STAR Labs gang (+1 Trickster) are teamed up now; and poor Barry is always stuck as the mediator.


	22. 59th Street

59th Street & Morris Lane

The Brownstone loomed in front of him; makeshift barbed wire was screwed into the sides of an otherwise picturesque setting.  The STAR Labs group hadn’t gone simple, the house was three stories high and nicely made.  The yard was big and someone had cleared off all the snow that dusted the ground around it.  

The gate, an entwined black metal that stood ominously over Barry’s head, looked strong enough to keep quite a number of zombies out if they were hoarding.  Still, the doors and windows of the bottom floor of the Brownstone were very obviously bolted shut.  He stepped on some ice right outside of the building, and for a moment Barry lost his footing but Len grabbed his elbow and held him up.  The slip went unnoticed by everyone else.

Eddie and the Italian man had gone with the rest of the Rogues to get the RV.  Apparently, they knew the best way around.  That left Barry with his friends and Len, though the whole walk to the Brownstone had been awkward and clipped.  Barry had told the story of how the Rogues had saved the people from the hoard of zombies in Indiana, and Iris ranted on about how their group had been saved from military officers when STAR Labs went into lockdown and trapped them inside.  The exchange had lasted well, distracting everyone from the very clear presence of Leonard Snart walking beside Barry.

They reached the Brownstone in only fifty minutes, the walk just as ominous and disturbing as before, though yet again they didn’t come into contact with any zombies.  It was strange how empty the city was.

Len looked at Barry, and then his hand on Barry’s arm was pulling him to a halt.  They paused right outside of the gate, and Iris looked back at them even though Cisco and Caitlin kept heading to the door.

“Everything alright?” Iris asked, hands halting on the metal gate.  

“We’ll just be a minute,” Leonard told her.

Iris nodded.  She glanced between Len and Barry and gave them both a smile that was only half-hearted.  “I’m really glad, you know,” Iris told them, “and I’m grateful that you gave Barry someone to have beside him through all this.”

Len blinked at her, confused, and then nodded.  That seemed to be all Iris was looking for because she turned to follow the others into the building.  In a moment they were alone with just the creek of buildings around them and wind flinging up snow like dust in gentle circles.

“What’s wrong?” Barry asked. 

“I wanted to check in on you.”  Len, concerned, stepped into Barry’s space and his hands rested on the sides of Barry’s neck to gently tilt the speedster’s head facing his own.  Barry liked this side of Len, the part that was protective and intense; it was always something he’d admired in the other man.  He just wished he could explain that to the others. 

There was a perpetual sinking feeling in Barry’s chest as he saw the disappointment on Caitlin, Cisco, and Eddie’s faces; Iris was the only one even slightly supportive and Iris hardly knew what Len was capable of.  Barry felt uncomfortable around his own friends and it was awful.  They looked at Barry like something horrible had happened to him and glared at Leonard like it was his fault. Barry wasn’t sure they would ever believe in Len but he wished his friends could trust _Barry._

Barry sighed and slowly wrapped his arms around Len’s waist.  

Len pulled his head down to kiss the top of his hair.  “It’s going to be fine,” Len said slowly, “we’ll work this out.”

“I need them to trust you,” Barry mumbled, screwing his eyes shut and holding Len tight.

Len was silent for a long moment before he replied.  “It might take them awhile, it took you awhile.”

“I always trusted you,” Barry said calmly.  Because he _had._  For a strangely long amount of time there was a part of Barry that had been assured he and Captain Cold could be allies or even friends; because they both loved Central City.  Barry had never bothered to think too hard about it until he and Leonard started growing closer but now that feeling he’d had of trust felt unexplainable and confusing.  How could he explain to his friends to just accept Leonard the way Barry had?  Blind faith?

Len pulled back enough to look Barry in the eye, his thumb brushed against Barry’s jaw.  His expression was serious and though his eyes looked straight at Barry they were unfocused. Len was thinking, Barry recognized.  “I’m not going to force you to go against your friends if the time comes.  I want you to know that it’s okay,” Len said, the words sounding painful.

Barry wrinkled his forehead in confusion.  “What is that supposed to mean?”

“If this doesn’t work out I don’t want you worrying about me,” Len said to Barry carefully.  And suddenly Len’s expression was entirely blank, a mask with no emotion.  “You can leave with them and I will be fine.”

Barry froze.  It took a moment to absorb that information and suddenly a rising possessive anger filled him.  His hands reached up at superspeed to grab Len’s wrists and hold them tight.  “Like _hell_ ,” Barry snapped, “what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Len frowned.  “I don’t want you choosing me over your friends just because you feel obligated-” he started to say, the words catching in his throat.

And for a moment Barry just stared at him, watching as Leonard struggled to finish what he was saying but give up.  It was the way Len’s expression was blank, his eyes didn’t grow wet with emotion but rather seemed dead and resigned, that frown on Len’s face that twisted Barry’s gut painfully.  Len, _Len_ saying it was _alright_ for Barry to let him go?

“No,” Barry said, voice suddenly soft.  It wasn’t until right then that he _understood_ what Len must be thinking.  “No, Lenny, no no.”  Barry turned his head to kiss the palm of Len’s hands, and then reached out to the other man to pull him close.  “I’m not going to leave you, I swear. There’s no way in hell I could leave you, I promise, _promise,_ I won’t, don’t you dare worry about that any more?  I am not going.  We’re going to fight through this together.”

Len’s jaw clenched shut and he couldn’t manage to say a word.

“Len,” Barry brushed his fingers along the other man’s chin, his cheeks, lips, ears, and then he pulled Len’s head toward him to rest their foreheads against each other.  Barry took a deep breath, and with a pang of emotion heard Len struggling to try to mimic it.  Len’s air caught in his throat like a man who couldn’t breathe.

Barry closed his eyes, pressing their foreheads against each other firmly even as Len’s grip slackened around him.

He wondered how long Len had been dreading reaching Central City, and yet continuing on this way anyway, afraid Barry would drop him the instant he reached his friends.

The insecurity and fear Len was feeling was suddenly just so clear, Barry couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it before.

“I am _with_ you,” Barry said, staring straight into Len’s eyes.  “I am with you to the end of this, Len.”

Len still didn’t speak; he watched Barry with a painful expression, so Barry pulled them back together.  He held Len and Len’s hands pressed on his back unsteadily.  

“Talk to me,” Barry pleaded, “it’s okay, Len.  Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Len shook his head, taking another ragged, unsteady breath.  “I…” He started, his voice a low whisper and then he shook his head again.

“I’m _with_ you,” Barry told him, and said it again, “I’m here with you, Len, I am with you and I’m going to _be_ with you this whole time.  I told everyone we are together and I _mean_ it, I promise.  I’m not letting this go.  I’m not letting _us_ go.”

Len’s eyes were screwed shut and his hands were shaking.

Barry brushed his hands along the sides of Len’s neck, trying to make some sort of comforting gesture, anything to help.  “Are you having a panic attack?  Talk to me,” Barry said, voice at a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Len said, and hearing his voice was a relief.  He was frowning, eyes closed, hands trembling as they held tight onto Barry.  “I don’t think so.”

“What’s going on,” Barry asked, trying to maintain some sort of balance between caring and commanding but the sight of Len struggling so hard, dealing with something like terror with a blank expression… it was unsettling.  “Len, what is wrong?”

“I…” Len’s breath caught again and his hands shook.  With a pained struggle, he managed to say through clenched teeth, “Just… sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, tell me what’s wrong,” Barry urged.  He pressed his lips gently on Len’s before pulling back just enough to look at the man’s face.  “Lenny, we’re _alright._  We’re together and I’d follow you to the end of the earth, alright?”

Len’s shoulders jerked, some strange tremble, and he was taking rapid inhales of air as if to try to calm himself down.  

“Len,” Barry said, worried, “Len, please.”

Barry swallowed hard, watching the man in front of him with a sickening twist in his gut.  He knew immediately he had to just say what he was thinking, so Barry blurted the words out without thought to their meaning.  “If things don’t work out here with Eddie and I have to choose I’m staying with you.”

“You shouldn’t,” Len said, the words hardly audible.

“I do a lot of stupid things,” Barry joked, nervous.  “Lenny, what we were doing today that wasn’t… it wasn’t goodbye.”

“It felt like it,” Len told him; still expressionless, still shaking, still unable to look Barry in the eye.

 _“No,_ fuck, _Len!”_ Barry grabbed Len’s neck tightly.  “No way, there was no way that was it- dammit, Len you have to _tell me_ what you’re _thinking,_ jeez I… I… what’s happening between us isn’t something I’m willing to throw away for anything I…”  And then _Barry_ couldn’t bring himself to talk.  A hot, burning sensation came to his noise and the back of his eyes, and for the second time today Barry was blinking back tears.  

Today was fucking awful, Barry decided.  Wonderful, amazing, reunion people he loved was great but there was something about this day that was bitter and rotten like the city they were standing in.

No one was the same, Joe and his father weren’t here, Iris was holding a _hatchet_ like she’d had to use it and the idea _Iris_ had been forced to do the same thing Barry had done at the Cult to the General it was…

“I _need_ you, Len,” Barry confessed, “I need you so much.  I don’t know what I’d do without you around.  The world is shit but when I can be around you it’s almost like everything is okay.”  Barry rubbed the palm of his hands on his eyes.

“I’ve never been happier in my life,” Len mumbled, he opened his eyes but looked at the black metal gate and not Barry.  “It’s fucked up.”

“What… Len, I don’t understand.” Barry wanted Len to look at him.

“I have my sister with me, my best friend, and a group of strong people.  I get to spend every day not worrying about the police or spending hours covering my tracks.  Life is simple.  I love you,” Len frowned; face finally falling into an expression of confusion.

“Huh?” Barry shook his head, afraid he’d misheard.

“I don’t know.  I never thought I’d fall in love in my life and then the world ends and I’m fishing you out of a blizzard and… I figured I’d just spend the whole drive to Central City being able to just pretend…” Len took a deep breath.  His hands finally stopped shaking and he set them on Barry’s shoulders, holding him tightly at arms length distance away.  His face downcast, Len spoke intently, rushed, as if angry at himself but still wanting to get the words out.  “Didn’t think you’d actually want me, I’m a fucking wreck.  I’m screwed up and I fuck people over and think it’s fun and that’s just what I _do_ and what I’ve always done.  The only good thing I had in my life was Lisa and I messed her up.  She was like some gift, something to take care of, give me strength to stand up to my father but I left her alone with him and that ruined her.  But I don’t know why, I have no idea why, but you did have some sort of feelings for me, even just a little, and the second you smiled at- the second you… I mean I just… I’ve been, it’s been pretty much this whole time…” 

Len swallowed, and Barry didn’t want him to stop talking.  Barry wasn’t sure he’d even know how to respond.  “I’ve never wanted anything,” Len said, still talking to the ground while holding Barry away from him, _“anything,_ as much as I want you.  As I love you.  I didn’t think it was possible for something like this to happen to me and I just don’t know what to do.  I don’t like not knowing what to do.”

Barry was entirely thrown.  For a moment he wasn’t sure he was even standing still, because his body felt like it was running and the worry in his gut had surged into his chest and grown light he was- _Wow,_ Barry thought.

Barry had been in love with Iris for years, his entire childhood and longer, but he hadn’t even been with Len a month.  And this? It felt in some parts the same and many parts different, because there was something intense about having love reciprocated.  It added to what was already there.

“I’m not leaving, Len,” Barry said firmly.  “I am _not leaving_.”

Len kissed Barry softly and pressed their foreheads together again.  When their eyes finally met, Barry couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t say ‘ _I love you_ ’ back to Len.  He just couldn’t bring himself to say the words even though he was thinking them.  

“I’m never leaving,” Barry repeated, wanting to express the same thing to Len but somehow not able to bring himself to say ‘ _I love you_ ’ back.  “I don’t care what anyone things of you.  I care what you think of them.”  An easy smile came to Barry’s face, “Except Iris.  You have to be friendly to Iris.”

Len laughed.  The worry in the man’s expression faded and he kissed Barry’s lips again.  “Okay,” Len told him, fingers squeezing Barry’s shoulders once and then letting him go, “okay, Scarlet.”

“We should probably get inside before they check on us or start worrying zombies got us,” Barry said reluctantly.  He wished he could remember every detail of what Len had confessed to him.  Already the words were starting to fade from memory and it was hard, he wanted to cling to every detail of this moment.  

And really? _This_ was how someone finally told Barry they loved him? He’d sort of expected a moonlight dinner to candlelight while a violin played, for some reason.  This worked, of course, but still.

He needed to give Len some crash course in romance.  

“You’re going to be moving rather slowly if you’re going to be following _me_ around forever,” Len said, staring into Barry’s eyes with that fierce focus Barry loved.  “Considering I’m the man who mastered absolute zero.”

“I thought Cisco did that,” Barry grinned.

“He laid the groundwork but you haven’t even seen what I’m capable of,” Len said smugly.  He kissed Barry again and lingered for just a moment before he continued, “Someone should give me a maritime degree for all work I’ve put into earning my Cold namesake.”

“You’d have to actually _share_ your data,” Barry reminded him, smiling at Len.  His chest felt full, his heart was pounding and Barry couldn’t imagine ever parting Len’s side at this moment.  Whatever happened, Barry was stuck with the other man.  

“That won’t happen,” Len acknowledged with a nod of his head.

“Maybe we’ll find a boat,” Barry offered, chuckling.

“Or when we pick one of these houses,” Len glanced around them down the street they were staying at the other Brownstones, “we’ll name it ‘The Ship’.  Get a big sign.”

“Oh,” Barry paused, thinking for a moment.  “Right, we’re going to get a house together.”

Len tilted his head, saying in a comfortable, smug voice, “You planned on staying with Officer Thawne?”

“We’re moving in together, it’s a big deal,” Barry frowned.

“We lived in cars with each other for three months,” Len reminded him.

“Okay, well… that’s true,” Barry admitted.  It was just something that seemed like it _should_ be a big deal, even if Len was right and they’d been sleeping in a bed together, sharing drawers and space since the very first night they were together.

“We should go meet your friends inside,” Len said.  Barry nodded.

* * *

“So… beer or Coke?” Cisco asked nervously.  There was a wide, frightened look in his eyes as he saw _Captain Cold_ , something angry in Cisco’s pose.  But he twisted his shirt in his hands for comfort and managed to look Leonard right in the eyes.  

Barry was a little proud of him.

“Beer,” Len told him, shrugging off his parka and setting it down, “Barry will want a Coke.”

The Brownstone had obviously been stripped down and then restocked.  When they opened the door the stairs up were right in front of them, and to the left was a parlor so full of boxes it could have been on an episode of _Hoarders,_ and to the right was a room where the far wall was entirely full of bookshelves stocked with reading material, and there were couches, loveseats, comfortable reclining chairs, all places around in a haphazard circle with intermittent coffee tables.  There were two scented candles lit, even though it was still a little bright outside, and they made the whole place smell like vanilla and sugar cookies.  It was amazingly cozy, Barry decided.

That was where Caitlin, Cisco, and Iris had been when they’d walking in, sitting on a couch together and talking in a hushed, low tone.  They’d stopped immediately when Barry and Len entered. 

Barry didn’t like this feeling of being outside his own friend group.  

“Okay,” Cisco said.  “I guess… Coke?” He asked Barry.  

“You have that?” Barry asked.

“Yeah.  We have a lot of food, actually. All the drinks are in the basement.  Most people ran out of the city pretty quickly, and about four weeks ago the zombies pretty much started leaving everywhere in a single file.  It was creepy.  The only place they’re still at is the governor’s house on the hill with the generator; occasionally they walk around.” Cisco told him.  He shuffled his feet awkwardly and then announced, “Alright.  I’ll be right back.” He turned to Caitlin and Iris.  “Both beer?”

“I’d actually like water,” Iris said as Caitlin nodded.  

Cisco left, going to another room beyond them which, judging by the tile floor was the kitchen.  

Barry sat down on the couch across from Iris and Caitlin, and Len followed, sitting right next to him.  Barry’s face was still feeling flushed, his body energized, from that _moment_ he’d had with Leonard.  Len loved him.  Barry was pretty sure he loved Len back.

Now was not the time to think about it, really, but Barry wanted to curl up in their bed and fuck himself on Len until the other man couldn’t stand.

Yeah.  Not was _not_ the time to indulge those thoughts.

Caitlin backed up in the couch, fixing her shirt and her hands nervously rubbing over the wrinkles.  Iris leaned forward, smiling at Barry for a long moment and not saying at anything.  Barry returned the look, finding a grin coming to his face easier than he’d thought.   _Iris,_ he thought.  Iris was safe, Len loved him and… what was it Barry had thought about today being terrible?  Today was the _best_ day.

“How’d you two meet?” Iris asked.

Len coughed into his hand, looking away, and Caitlin whistled a low tone.   Barry bit his lip.  “Um…” He couldn’t figure out an answer to that.

“Oh,” Iris said awkwardly, looking at the reactions of the people around her, “right, because he was a supervillain.”

Len frowned, sitting forward.  “I am not a supervillain,” he said, “I’m a thief.”

“You kinda… you have the whole name, you know,” Barry reminded him, “and the gimmick.”

“I’m not a _supervillain,”_ Len said to Barry.  “I’m not that crazy.”

“You do make a lot of jokes about ice,” Barry teased him.

“It’s funny,” Len said with an intense expression.

“You don’t say it like a joke though so people never notice,” Barry said, “and you have the parka and everything.”

 _“Yes_ but I don’t… I’m not… I’m not a supervillain,” Len said, his tone indicating he wasn’t going to change his mind.

Iris was grinning at them, and Barry was so glad to see her like that.  Iris was clearly happy for him.  Caitlin just looked scared.  “How did you two start dating?” Iris asked, “Can I ask that?”

“Yeah… I guess,” Barry said, looking at Len with a question in his eye.  Len just shrugged and sat back on the couch.

Cisco walked through the door, pausing for a moment to look at Len before he made his way back.  He was hugging five bottles to his chest.  He slowly disentangled them, giving Caitlin a beer, setting a Coke down for himself, giving Iris a water, and then handed Barry the beer and Coke for both him and Len.

Cisco sat on the opposite couch, Caitlin making room for him, and stared with fierce intensity at his Coke.  He seemed to be doing his best not to acknowledge Len was there.

Iris gave Cisco a smile but her eyes were glaring at him, passing between Cisco and Caitlin with intent.  “Barry’s going to tell us how he and Leonard started dating,” Iris told them.  She had a dangerous tone in her voice.

“I would really,” Cisco said, looking up just enough to frown at Barry, “really like to know the answer to that question.”

Len smirked.  “You’re very hostile, Cisco,” he said, that pugnacious drawl in his voice.  Barry elbowed him in the stomach, but Len’s smug smirk didn’t stop.  Len rested his arms on the back of the couch, leaning back like he was cracking his neck, and then one of his arms was across Barry’s shoulders.

Barry almost shoved him off and decided not to at the last second.  Still, he stared at Len angrily to try and show the man he was _not_ liking the way Len was baiting Cisco.

“I think I have a right to be hostile,” Cisco defended.  He drew in a sharp breath when Len put his arm around Barry, staring at Len’s hand by Barry’s shoulder like it was some horrible monster.  “In case you forgot what you did to me.”

“You’re not nearly as angry with my sister,” Len pointed out, “in case you forgot, she was an active participant.”

Cisco blushed heavily.  His knuckled tightened on the Coke in his hands.  “You make your baby sister do your dirty work all the time, or was that an exception?”

 _“Cisco,”_ Iris warned.

“Lisa doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to do,” Len told Cisco.  He took a slow drink of the Sam Adams in his hand.  “Hm,” Len said, looking at the label, “thanks.” He gestured to Cisco with the bottle.

“Barry, I didn’t know Leonard Snart was your type,” Caitlin said, glancing at Len and Cisco nervously.  She was holding the beer but hadn’t taken a sip, her hands still patting down wrinkles on her shirt.

Barry had dreaded this.  “It just didn’t seem really important whenever we talked,” Barry apologized.  “I didn’t really have any men I was interested in then so it wasn’t… relevant I guess.”

“We’re your friends,” Caitlin said, entreating to him.  She gave him a kind smile.  “You could have told us that you’re…” She let it hang.

“Bisexual,” Barry finished.  “I mean… I guess.  I wanted to have… it’s just something personal I guess.”

“You haven’t dated a guy in awhile,” Iris said, jumping in.  “I didn’t know you were still interested.”

“I guess it was just… easier not to be?” Barry said, unsure how to explain.  “And I… I know that we’re friends,” he said to Caitlin and Cisco, “most of the time.  But sometimes I was sort of…” 

“What?” Caitlin asked, confused, while Cisco frowned, _“most_ of the time?”

“Sometimes it was more like I was…kind of a lab rat?” Barry apologized.

“Dude!” Cisco actually stood up, and then sat right back down again when he felt a bit awkward.  He leaned forward on the couch toward Barry.  “We never did any experiments without asking-”

“I mean… _yeah,_ but they were still experiments.  And I’m grateful but,” Barry started to say.

 _“Wait,”_ Leonard straightened up, glaring, “you did _experiments_ on him?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Barry assured him.  Len’s jaw clenched, his hand tightened on Barry’s shoulder, but he backed down.  He sat on the far side of the couch, pulling his hand off of Barry to hold both the beer with both hands and frown.  His eyes flickered with suspicion between Cisco and Caitlin.

“Barry,” Caitlin said kindly, her expression sorry, “we didn’t ever want to give you the impression you were just… _data.”_

“I know, and you didn’t,” Barry promised her, “it’s just that… there were some parts of myself I didn’t want under a microscope.  If that makes sense.”

“It does,” Caitlin said.  She looked at Barry with her big, sad eyes and Barry felt guilty.

Even Cisco at least looked a little less angry.  “I’m sorry, Barry,” Cisco said.

“It’s okay,” Barry told him.

“We need some more candles,” Iris decided.  “Leonard, do you mind coming with me to get them? It’s dark upstairs.”

Len shrugged, and everyone could see it was a very blatant attempt to get the groups alone.  Len set his beer down on the coffee table beside him and stood up.  Iris gave Barry a smile as she walked by him, and then she went up the stairs with Leonard following her.

It was getting dark, Barry noticed.  The two candles were not enough to keep the conversation going.  It was probably much lighter outside, but the smell of the decay and trash in the city was alleviated here.  “Do you have a lot of candles?” Barry asked, figuring a change in conversation might help.  He didn’t want to argue with Cisco and Caitlin but there was something that he just couldn’t _change,_ and which didn’t make sense, and that was Len.  

“Yeah.  There’s actually some big pagan supply store only a few blocks from here, we can pretty much never run out,” Caitlin said, smoothing the wrinkles on her shirt.  Barry wondered if that was a thing she did all the time now, Cisco and Iris didn’t seem phased by it at all.  

“Have Ronnie, Laurel, or Oliver made any contact?” Barry asked them.

And somehow that was the magic trigger.  Cisco looked at Barry with _recognition,_ and Caitlin seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.  The Flash work; it was what had brought them together.

“Ronnie blew by not too long ago,” Caitlin said, a sad smile on her face, “he had places to be I guess.  He never stays, but he was alright and working with Hal Jordan from the radio, apparently.  Have you heard of Hal Jordan?”

“Yeah, we’ve been listening to it,” Barry nodded.  “He seems a bit full of himself.”

“I don’t get all those ‘might’ references,” Cisco agreed, “I guess with you around we’ll probably end up finding him.”

“You reactivated the suit, right?” Barry asked, “How did you do that?”

“Oh, well, we had to find an internet source so I could download all the Flash schematics from my STAR Labs dropbox onto my ipad; we have some car batteries and things we can plug power into even though… well, no electricity, lights, or tv.”  Cisco explained, eyes lighting up as he did, “It was craziness.  The governor’s house is the only place with a generator and working electricity because it’s on a separate grid from the city, but it’s literally crawling with zombies.  It’s the only place around that it.  We used the internet to send out a help signal, put a help message into Oliver Queen and Ray Palmer to let them know we were here, and I got the schematics downloaded.  I was only able to connect when I was using my datapad though.”

“Oh, that’s why it worked some times and not others?”  Barry realized.  He fingered the hood of the Flash uniform, which was down, for the earpiece.  “Harrison Wells found me when you turned the suit on, apparently you reactivated my GPS.  Hartley found it and destroyed it though.”

 _“Hartley,”_ Cisco growled.

Caitlin rolled her eyes.  “I wondered where your GPS signal went,” she said, “what did Wells want?”

“I don’t know.  His name is Eobard apparently.  He was looking to find some man who apparently knows how to control the zombies and wants to make some city of speedster-worshippers,” Barry nodded, shrugging.  “Yeah.  He’s…”

“…really gone off the rails?” Caitlin offered.

“He’s never been on any rails,” Cisco said sullenly.

“Yeah…” Barry agreed, sighing.

There was a long pause, and then Cisco jumped forward, snapping his fingers together.  “I got it! FlashFreeze!” Cisco announced.

“What?” Barry stared.  Caitlin looked at Cisco like he was crazy.

“The superhero team up name,” Cisco explained, looking at Barry with apology in his eyes.  “You know.  For you and Captain Cold?  Oh, Captain Flash?”  He rubbed his chin, thinking.

“Hm,” Caitlin thought, “you mean like a celebrity mashup name?  Lenarry?”

“That’s horrible,” Barry laughed.  He could feel the tension in his shoulders lifting.

“Important question,” Cisco said carefully, “you’re happy, right?  And he’s treating you, you know, not being a cold jerk?”

“‘A cold jerk’,” Caitlin repeated, “that’s the best you can do?”

“Okay,” Barry held up his hands, “I’m stopping this train of thought before you start trying to come up with better insults for Len.”

 _“Len,”_ Cisco repeated, rolling the word in his mouth like he was trying it out.  “Huh.”

“So, Barry, what’s the plan?” Caitlin asked, looking at him curiously.  “Now that we’re back together.”

“Find Joe and my dad,” Barry said immediately, “and your family too, Cisco-”

“That’s a… road we don’t have to go down,” Cisco said dully.  

 _Fuck no,_ Barry thought.  “I’m so sorry, Cisco.”

Cisco shrugged.  “Mom and Dad turned,” he said while staring at his drink, “same with most of the extended family.  My brother and cousins joined some raiders heading down the equator, trying to get warm.  Pretty much everyone in the city who was alive joined a group somewhere going to Mexico.  We were the only people that stayed in Central City except for a family on the Upper West, and some fun, hippie people who’re permanently camped on the High Line.  They have weed and Starbursts, if you can stand the musical nightmare that is thirty different college kids who can’t play instruments and are permanently high.”

“The military was here?” 

“Yeah,” Caitlin said, taking over.  She set a hand on Cisco’s side in comfort before she continued.  “They got us out of STAR Labs when the place went into lockdown.  They came, pretty much just grabbed supplies, and then were headed down to the prison on orders to secure it, I suppose.  Joe went with them to try and get your dad out but that was three weeks ago.”

“I guess the plan would be to go to the prison,” Barry decided, “rescue everyone there.  We have two metahumans and the Rogues now; we make a good team when we can fight.  Mark Mardon is still recovering but I don’t think it will be too much longer.  I guess after that we’d come back here, work on gathering supplies and trying to contact Hal Jordan.”

“Okay,” Cisco said, suddenly intensely serious.  He leaned forward, looking Barry straight in the eye.  “Does Hartley snore?”

Barry hesitated for a moment and then laughed.

* * *

They picked the house literally across the street, which was two stories and wider than Eddie’s group’s place.  Barry raced through first, tossing out the old photographs, rotten food, and any other knick knacks and things like televisions that didn’t work anymore.  Then he went into nearby houses to fill the living room with couches and comfy chairs just like the other room, and figured it worked.  The place was dusty, and after Shawna jumped around the house opening all the windows, Mark Mardon walked through the house blowing all the dirt and air away.  

It gave the place a comforting feeling, while still being empty enough that they had room to unload their meager belongings from the RV.  Lisa carefully drove the RV and parked it in front of the neighboring house, and the group took their time placing their things in their new place.

Eddie stopped Barry once, asking him if Barry was moving in with the Rogues or with them.  It was weird answering that he was going to be staying with the Rogues.  

Not bad, but different.  

Barry understood the significance of staying with the Rogues.  Before he was forced to; but his friends were just across the street and Barry wasn’t choosing Iris, Cisco, or Caitlin over the Rogues… he was just choosing to be with Len.  

Len carried boxed of their clothes into the room, their blankets, condoms, Len’s books and Barry’s collection of running shoes, and the box of those nostalgic collections Barry had under the bed.  Their stuff had mingled together, clothes piled onto each other, items kept in the same drawers without any borderlines, and Barry hadn’t even noticed when that happened.

He followed Len into the master bedroom slowly, walking behind him at Len’s pace.  They filled the room with boxes and then Len started to unpack everything.

Their room as large as Barry’s old apartment.  It would take long strides to go from the bed into the bathroom, which had a large tub, sinks, and showers that were fairly useless without electricity.  Barry set a gallon of melted ice water (curtsey of Mick) beside the sink for brushing their teeth and shaving.

“You emptied the dresser and closet?” Len’s voice came from the center of the room.

“Yeah,” Barry said, stepping into the master bedroom again.  

The room had mainly been taken over by a large tv propped up on the side of the wall, but Barry had taken that out leaving a large empty space by a window on the wall.  The window had white curtains, and Barry looked at them.  “I think we should get blue curtains,” Barry said.

“Very domestic of you,” Len commented.  He was pulling the clothes out of the boxes into separate piles.  “I didn’t realize you’d taken so many running shoes from the store,” Len said, gesturing to the pile of them.  “I think you have twelve pairs.”

“I wear them out pretty quickly,” Barry reminded him.  He stepped on over toward the bed, feeling the soft carpet under his toes.   _Wow._  It was a _house._  They weren’t traveling anymore, they weren’t lost- they’d made it to Central City.

He took a deep breath, the bedroom smelled like the air outside and Barry made a mental note to find those scented candles.

“That’s true.”  Besides the dresser, the large bed against the wall, there was a bookshelf and a bedside table but nothing else.  Lots of space.  Barry had laid his Flash uniform on the floor in the corner and pulled on shorts and a t-shirt.

They’d chosen this house because it had the fireplace.  Barry’d found a good amount of wood for Mick to burn and the house was already warm.

There were six bedrooms, five on the top floor and one at the bottom.  Mick chose the lower floor, it was right next to the fireplace.  Shawna and Mark took the room on the farthest side of the room, and Hartley and Lisa choose rooms next to their shared bathroom.  The house was mostly empty and that space was incredibly comforting after being stuck together for so long.

It was a bit frightening too.  

Barry liked the bed, the blankets they’d taken from the RV gave it a familiar feeling but the mattress was much more comfortable.  He pressed his hand into it and lifted it, watching the bed slowly fluff back to its regular position.  Memory-foam, it was fancy.  

The one candle, which was scentless unfortunately, on the bedside table was just enough to see, and the window was large enough the dim light was still coming through.    
He liked seeing Len’s parka hanging in the closet, over Barry’s running shoes, and the way Len was methodically and calmly placing their things away.  

Barry sat on the bed and watched Len slowly carrying some well worn science textbooks to the bookshelf.  He liked the way Len walked.  Liked to see Len’s socks on the carpet and Len’s face illuminated by the flickering candlelight and low blue light outside. 

“Hey,” Barry said quietly.  

Len set the books on the shelf and turned.  He didn’t say anything.

Barry smiled at him, and lay back down on the bed with a sigh.  He brushed his hands over the soft blanket.  “This is a nice place we got here,” Barry said to the ceiling.

“We made it to Central City,” Len said, slowly, as if to remind himself.

Barry rested his head on the palms of his hands, intertwining his fingers and looking up.  “Yeah,” he said, “thank you.”

“My _pleasure,”_ Leonard said in a low tone.  He stepped slowly toward the bed.  He hadn't been sure if Len was willing to go twice in one day, but the way Len was looking at him seemed to indicate the other man was game for it.

“We’re going to find Joe and my dad, we’ll make sure everyone is safe,” Barry said.  He sat up as Len came closer.  Len set his arms down on the mattress beside him, leaning over Barry.  Barry brushed his finger along Len’s nose and mouth and Len closed his eyes while he did.  Barry thought, _Len loves me_.  

Barry wanted to give him something.  His eyes flickered to the corner of the room where the Flash uniform was sitting.  “We got everything from the RV, right?”

“Mm,” Len nodded.

“I need you to do something for me,” Barry said, feeling a surge of excitement, “very important.”  He trailed his thumb across Len’s bottom lip.

“Mm?” Len opened his eyes, watching Barry with that fierce focus.

“I think you should put your parka back on,” Barry said slowly, “and put the lube and condoms in the bedside table.”

Len smirked, leaned forward quickly to press a fast kiss on Barry’s lips before he was stepping back.  “As you wish,” Len said, cracking his neck before walking toward the boxes to find their supplies.

“You’ve seen _Princess Bride_?” Barry asked, surprised.

“Do you think I just sat in my evil Cold dungeon playing supervillain all day?  I’ve seen movies,” Len rolled his eyes.

“That… right,” Barry said.  He glanced back to the Flash uniform.  

Cisco was never, ever going to find out about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I was a little too tired & dealing with knee problems #lizardtruth to edit this chapter as much as I probably shooooouuulllldddd have.... sorry about that. If you see anything major you can let me know and I'll fix it.


	23. Day 2, Central City

The Rogues Residence, 481 59th Street

Barry watched his face in the mirror as he poured some of the water onto his hands, careful not to dump the whole gallon into the sink, and splashed it over his face.  There was a smudge of dirt under his left eye that he rubbed out carefully before grabbing a towel from the closet.  It was covered in dust, but Barry shook it over the tub at superspeed and then it was fine.  He wiped his face, looked at his reflection, and then pulled the hood over his head.

It had been a long time since he’d actually looked at himself in the uniform.

He blinked, looking at his eyes through the red mask.  The uniform was… weird, right?  Barry turned, running his hands along the arms and sides, gloved fingers touching the material and keeping him from feeling anything.  It was really, _really_ tight, it just didn’t feel tight, the suit was practically a part of his skin and didn’t feel uncomfortable, pressing, or bunched up in any way.  Thank god, if Barry was forced to run in _jeans_ at superspeed the chafing would have rubbed him raw.

He really liked the suit. Apparently Len did too so…

Barry took a deep breath, taking a moment to steel himself in the mirror before he was at the bathroom door in a flash, opening it up at regular speed, and stepping forward.  He’d barely walked into the room before Len, who he guessed had been standing in wait behind the door, which was _ridiculous, honestly_ grabbed his arm and pushed him against the wall.  

He was wearing the parka, those dark jeans and boots, thankfully not the cold gun which Barry realized he’d forgotten to ask Len to leave out.  Len seemed to remember Barry’s insistence not to bring dangerous weapons into the bedroom, at least.  

The goggles looked kind of silly, so Barry grabbed them and pulled them off Len’s face to let them dangle on his neck.

_“Flash,”_ Len said, eyes fiercely staring into Barry’s.  His thumb curled along the bottom of Barry’s mask, tapping on the material covering his chin.  Len’s other arm held Barry’s wrist tightly, though not hard enough to hurt, just enough to hold Barry against the wall.  Barry could easily pull himself out of it, but he didn’t want to.

Barry was flying blind on this one, but he was pretty sure Len’s fantasies were pretty much covered by Barry just wearing the Flash uniform and whatever else happened would be fine.  He hoped, at least.  But considering the way Len’s eyes went dark and the other man was slowly leaning against him, predatory and lustful, Barry was pretty sure there was no way he could disappoint.  It was a good feeling.

_“Cold,”_ Barry said, trying his best not to laugh.

Len could see that Barry was trying not to grin, and a smug smirk crossed his face.  “You want to say you came here because I was just too attractive for you to resist,” Len asked, his voice still that self assured drawl of Captain Cold, but he broke character enough to kiss Barry’s cheek.  His thumb brushed on the place he’d kissed right after and the man looked contemplative.  “Or do you want to just jump into the very realistic scenario that I’ve defeated you with my superior int-ell-ect?” Len savored the last word, saying it slowly and watching Barry roll his eyes.

“As if.  I have superpowers, remember, _and_ I’m the one who went to college,” Barry reminded him.  

“That was cold,” Len said without a single indication in his face he’d said a joke.  Barry had to bite back a laugh.

Barry’s hands moved to brush along the parka, the thick coat a bit of an annoyance.  He liked Len’s body, liked the way Len walked when he was naked and honestly the parka didn’t do him any favors.  Barry guessed it was some sort of protection from the cold gun, and Len had obviously grown attached to it, but still.  

He tugged at the zipper, pulling it down so he could still run his hands along the tight, thermal shirt Len was wearing but the parka would still be on.  A compromise.

“Like what you see?” Len drawled, glancing down at Barry’s lips.

Barry snorted.  “You were _inside_ me about six hours ago,” he reminded him.

Len’s eyes widened. _“Shit,”_ he mumbled, and then Len’s hips thrusted forward against Barry’s and he kissed him hard.  Barry was pressed tight against the wall, and he gripped the sides of Len’s parka to hold himself in place.  And then Len was grabbing Barry’s thighs to hoist him up in his arms, pressing Barry against the wall in a position reminiscent of earlier that afternoon and _fuck_ Barry could feel his body responding to that.

Len’s mouth moved to kiss along Barry’s cheekbone, to his ear, and he gently mouthed along Barry’s ear which was _incredibly_ sensitive.  Barry held back a moan, wrapping his legs tight around Len’s waist.   _“Fuck,_ you are really strong, you know,” Barry said, breath catching in his throat.

“It’s how I defeated you,” Len mumbled into Barry’s neck.

“I did _not_ agree to that scenario,” Barry protested.  And then Len was pulling him slowly back from the wall, still holding Barry tight against him, walking carefully to the bed before throwing Barry onto it.

Wow, that was… nice.  It might be a bit concerning how much of a turn on being manhandled was for Barry- though it was just when Len did it.  

Looking both dangerous and amused, Len stood over him with a defiant look in his eye.   _“Really,_ Flash, you should up your game.  Rendered so helpless by a criminal like me? How are you even successful at this?” His hands reached out to rest on Barry’s knees.

“Again, did _not_ agree to be the loser,” Barry said, though he was… kind of enjoying the attention.   _Shit._  “Why does it have to be ‘evil villain captures hero and has his wicked way with him’? Seems too cliché.”

“Really? Does this happen to the _Arrow?_  You two do this with all your enemies? There some secret orgy version of the Fight Club I should know about?” Len asked, smirking.  His hands on Barry’s knees slowly pushed Barry’s legs apart.  And he stepped in between them.

“Okay, that was an image in my head I did not want,” Barry said, grimacing.  

Len traced a finger along the lightning insignia on Barr’s chest, and then lower to brush against the red material along Barry’s abs.  “Hm.  Nice to know I’m special,” Len drawled.

“As if you’d ever doubt it.  You have an ego the size of the diamonds you try to steal.”

_“Successfully_ steal,” Len insisted.

“Not if I can help it,” Barry said immediately.  An idea came into his head, one that at least should make both of them happy, and he sat up.  He placed his hand on Len’s chest and pushed him back until they were both standing.  “If we’re going to be working together,” Barry said slowly.  He grinned.  “I’m going to have to check you for weapons.  Make sure you won’t be double crossing me.”

Len smirked and spread his arms out wide.  “If you really want my help,” he said, catching what Barry had said immediately, “you know I’ll have demands.  My work doesn’t come…” His eyes flickered to Barry’s lips and then back, _“cheap.”_

Barry patted down Len’s sides, not able to feel the muscles of Len’s arms through the parka which was a bit of a disappointment.  Standing too close, he slid his hands under the coat to run his hands down Len’s side, taking too long exploring the muscles there.  His hands reached Len’s ass and he squeezed before dropping to his knees to feel along Len’s thighs.

“My fault for dating a cop,” Len mumbled to himself.

“Do you and your sister even know what a forensic scientist is?” Barry said, breaking the moment for a moment to roll is eyes at Len before he continued ‘searching’ along Len’s legs.  And then, because there was a definite bulge in Len’s jeans _right_ at eye level, Barry reached up to cup it in his hands.

“Are you this thorough with all the other felons?” Len asked, leaning forward just a bit.  

“Looks like you could be hiding something,” Barry grinned, pressing one hand against the top of Len’s groin and the other reaching to hold the bulge between the man’s legs.  “I mean, looks like there’s just… a _lot_ here.” He trailed two fingers along the zipper. 

“You really know how to flatter someone, don’t you?” Len chuckled, letting his hands fall to his sides but not moving.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Barry said, having trouble keeping from laughing.  He coughed to steal himself, before gratuitously rubbing his hand over the bulge in Len’s pants.  “Sure you aren’t keeping any weapons? Got one of those cold battery things stuck down here?”

And because Barry… well, because he _could,_ he felt until he had a good grip on Len’s shaft through the pants and stroked it slowly.  It popped into his head and Barry couldn’t help quipping the cliché, “Is this a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Len’s hips thrust forward in a jerking motion, but he maintained his calm exterior.  “Am I going to get the chance to check _you_ for weapons?”

“Nope,” Barry told him immediately.  And then with a shrug he let go of Len and stood up.  Their faces were inches away from each other at this point, and Barry grinned.  “Now _what_ can I offer you in return for your help?”

Len walked forward slowly, backing Barry up onto the bed until the back of Barry’s knees hit the mattress.  “Let’s go for seventy-five grand,” Len said.

Barry had sort of been expecting Len to ask for a blowjob, that _was_ the point of him spending so much time on his knees and _sheesh_ Barry really wanted to see Len… Barry looked down at Len’s groin and was suddenly struck with the image of Len’s _gorgeous,_ flushed cock out with his parka on, Len stroking himself with that fierce look as he stared at Barry.  Wow.  Fuck.  Nice.   _Shit._

“You still alive, speedster?” Len asked.  

“Yes,” Barry snapped back to reality, “I am.”  The idea that Barry well… if he asked, he could have that image of Len because Len would probably do anything he asked was… _damn._

The frigid felon was in _love_ with Barry.  It was… wow?  Wow.  

“There are other ways I could be persuaded for payment,” Len said to Barry’s neck.  His mouth hot against Barry’s skin as his hands ghosted along the outfit, tracing the seams with gentle brushes of his fingers.

“What makes you think I’ll accept?  Give me one good reason not to…” Barry hesitated a moment before coming up with a threat, “speed you in front of a hoard of zombies and leave you there?”

Len looked at Barry carefully, contemplative.  And then his hands went to his pants to pull off his belt.  The gentle glide of the materials sliding against each other sent shivers down Barry’s spine.  “You need my expertise, kid,” Len said.

Barry frowned.  “Kid?” He said with annoyance, “Really?”

“That bother you?” Len smirked, smugly leaning forward into Barry’s space.  “You coming here, requesting my reinforcement to your _half-cocked_ schemes? I think you bite off more than you believe.  You’re in deep, Scarlet.”  Len’s voice had an air of warning.  He was pressed against Barry’s body then, no more space for Barry to move unless Barry sat on the bed.  “Associating with cold-hearted criminals like me, what will the other heroes think of you?”

Barry slowly dropped down onto the bed, spreading his legs enough for Len to stand between them.  “I _need_ your help, Captain Cold,” Barry said, trying to sound seductive but it came out more snarky and awkward.  He shrugged, not bothering to hide his grin.  “I’ll do _anything_ to save the people of Central City.”

“Oh,” Len commented, hands gripping Barry’s thighs tight, “the whole city is in danger? Nice stakes.”

“Thanks.  Figured we should make this a very important transaction,” Barry told him.

“You’re so _desperate_ for my help, aren’t you,” Len said, jumping back into character.  His hands squeezed once on Barry’s thighs before sliding up to his ass.

Barry couldn’t help it.  With a breathless voice, he whispered, grinning broadly, “But it’s my _first time_.”

Len laughed so hard his hands lost their grip, and he dropped his head to Barry’s chest, shoulders shaking.  “Oh really?” Len mumbled, chuckling.

“Yeah, _definitely,”_ Barry nodded, holding back a laugh as best he could, “this is all just… so new, you know.  Really different experience for me.  You’re going to have to show me the light here, like, I mean, do I even like anal?  Probably not.  Going to need to do at least three different positions tonight before I draw any real conclusions for the sake of scientific experimentation.”

“For science?” Len repeated with disbelief.  He looked up, still shaking with laughter.  

“Just to be thorough, Captain Cold,” Barry nodded.  

“I suppose fucking you is acceptable payment for my services,” Len decided.  And he grabbed Barry’s ass again, picking him up just enough to push him more comfortable on the bed.  And then Len was crawling over the top of him, his lower body heavy against Barry’s and chest held up with his elbows beside Barry’s stomach.  He looked straight into Barry’s eyes.

Barry slipped his hands to his own belt, pulling it off the uniform so Len could tug down the pants if Len wanted too.  “Don’t let the other villains know or it’ll just get awkward,” Barry told him.

“Now that’s a mental image _I_ didn’t need,” Len said, echoing Barry’s words.  

Barry shrugged, and reached out to grab the sides of Len’s stomach above the hips.  He held the other man lightly, looking up at him. “Better hurry up.  I’m not known for going slow.”

“Hm,” Len said slowly, gaze dropping and fingers reaching out again to trace the Flash insignia on Barry’s uniform.  “You’re very demanding in bed, you know.”

“You do everything I ask, don’t you?” Barry reminded him, “Didn’t you say something before about me being able to ask for _anything?”_

“I’m going to suck your dick and when I get these pants off you’re going to prepare yourself with that damn superpower while I watch.  And I’m going to fuck you for fifteen minutes like this before we’re going to switch. And you’re going to ride me,” Len said, watching Barry’s expression carefully.

Barry’s eyes widened and mouth felt dry.  “Oh.  Okay.” His voice sounded shaky.

“Good.”  Len dropped his eyes to Barry’s pants.  “So I just…”

“Yeah, just pull them off.” Barry told him.  

Len did, tugging the uniform down enough to get the bulge of Barry’s underwear in front of him.  He licked his lips and Barry couldn’t help but shudder.  Quickly, almost too fast for Barry to realize Len was doing it, Len pulled the underwear down and took Barry’s cock in his mouth.  He sucked hard immediately, and Barry gasped out loud, grabbing the blankets underneath him.

“Sh- shit,” Barry mumbled.  Len’s mouth was hot, warm, tight, and his tongue softly moving under Barry’s shaft.  Tender and slow, Len pulled out while still sucking hard, Barry arching his hips forward just slightly.  And then Len’s mouth was gone, and Barry breathed a sigh of relief, and Len was back, tongue sliding down before taking Barry in his mouth again.

Barry fought to control his hips, pushing himself forcefully back into the mattress, and breathed hard with shuddering breaths.  Len’s head moved quickly between his legs, taking him down, tongue rubbing circles along the top of his cock before sliding up and back.  “L… Cold,” Barry mumbled, closing his eyes because the view of his own cock in Len’s mouth threatened to make him explode then and there.  He probably would have if he hadn’t gotten off that afternoon.

Oh man.  They had their own _room_ now.  How many times could they do this?  They could go on a freaking sexcation if they wanted- shit that was amazing and-

Len was bobbing his head faster, pretty much letting Barry fuck his mouth and Barry really couldn’t control his hips anymore.  His hips thrust up against Len. Len stopped.

Len’s mouth moved away and Barry groaned at the sudden cold air, and Len’s hands pressed his hands on Barry’s hips hard and pushed him down into the mattress.  He looked up, catching Barry’s eye, mouth slightly open as he took slow breaths.  

“Fuck.  You gotta… now?” Barry breathed.

Len pulled himself up, wiping his mouth as he crawled over to the bedside table to grab the lube and condom.  He tossed the lube beside Barry’s hand, and then tore the condom himself.  As he pulled out his cock, Barry gripped the lube tight in his hand and stared.  Fuck, Len was already hard and he’d hardly even been touched.  

His eyes traced over him, loving the growing familiar sight of Len’s cock, the bent and flushed end, its long length and thick shaft and he just _loved_ it.  

“Don’t you have something to do?” Len asked, gesturing to the lube as he rolled the condom over himself.

Right.  Superspeed.  Barry pulled his pants down the rest of the way, taking just a second to toss the long boots off with it and then he just felt weird half naked like he was, but the mask was a part of it so he his shirt and mask on.  He squirted the lube onto his fingers and then he moved at superspeed, sliding his fingers inside of himself and moving quickly.  Barry hardly had to do anything, his body was even still slick with lube from earlier and that was just… weird.  Still, he was done in a moment.  

The instant before he was going to go back to normal speed, Barry’s eyes caught the slow motion of Len’s hand gripping himself tight.  Still moving fast, Len like a statue in front of him, Barry poured more lubricant into his hand and slid it along the other man.  He grabbed Len’s shoulders, throwing Len on top of him as he pushed back on the bed, head propped on a pillow.  Then Barry pushed Len’s cock against him, legs gripping the side of Len’s thighs, and he pushed himself down with a gasp.

And it was then that he felt the superspeed leaving him and the normal time coming through, sounds and light even at its regular, slow pace.

_“Fuck,”_ Len gasped, eyes wide open with surprise as he stared at Barry.  Low, lustful, _wanting._

Len felt so damn good.  Like he’d been _missing_ from Barry and now he was back.  Barry rolled his hips, finding it hard to breathe with the mask on.  

_“Barry,_ fuck,” Len grabbed Barry’s biceps tight, head dropping as he held himself back from moving.  

Barry thrust his hips up just enough, that right angle to feel Len moving inside of him.   _“Shit,_ Len,” he mumbled, pushing up to get Len deeper.  Barry reached his hands up carefully, throwing the mask off so he felt like he had more room to breathe.  

It was only a moment until Len was moving into him.  Len grabbed Barry’s thighs, all hard angles and fierce motions, and started drilling into Barry as hard as he cool.  His knees pushed on the mattress, lifting Barry up to get an easier angle and- oh fuck, they’d forgotten to take off Len’s shoes and they were on the new bed but-

Len was hitting his prostate hard, slamming right into Barry like a man possessed and it was _amazing._  Barry moaned, taking a sharp breath and tensing against him.  Len slowed down, just a bit, enough to start a consistent pace.  He slicked forward and out, holding Barry’s thighs tightly against himself.  

Barry reached out enough to grab the parka in his fingertips and then he arched into Len’s thrusts, wanting it to keep going, not sure what to do besides try his best to match Len’s rhythm.  

“You’re getting better at- controlling your speed when we do this,” Len said, his voice interrupted at each thrust forward with a gasp.  “You should- _fuck,_ I kind of miss it.”

Len thrust into him again and then Barry grabbed his sides, pulled Len tight forward and in a second steeled himself to start vibrating.  His pelvis and thighs, moving with Len inside him and holy _fuck_ , _holy fuck_ \- it felt good.  Len’s hips pressing deep into his skin as Len was fully inside him and Barry could feel every inch of the other man pushing against his prostate, hitting it again and again while Barry vibrated against him.  Barry's lower body became absorbed in swift motion.

_“Fuck!”_ Len yelled.  He grabbed Barry tight, but his hands lost their ability to hold onto him and he had to clench his hands on the mattress.  His eyes screwed shut as he worked to hold himself in.

“C’mon, Len,” Barry mumbled, moving his shaking hips against Len’s body, groaning as Len’s cock moved, feeling like some goddamn lightning rod inside of him.  “C’ _mon_ , fuck me harder, _fuck,_ Len.”

It didn’t take Len long to comply at all.  In an instant his eyes were focused on Barry, composed and wide with lust, and his hands grabbed Barry’s hips where his form was steady enough to hold.  And then he thrusted himself forward hard, even deeper into him and Barry moaned loud.  That sound seemed to make him more intense, Len pulled out and Barry gasped when he did, and then he was pushing back in hard.  Pace continuing, Barry vibrating himself underneath him and they both breathed together, short and hard gasps for air as Len fucked Barry as steadily as he could, moving fast out and in and taking his time inside for Barry to feel Len’s cock like a fucking _toy_ against his prostate.  It was intense enough that Barry could feel himself reaching orgasm fast.

“Len I…” Barry couldn’t finish it, Len pushing in him again and the words melted into a groan.

“I know, me too,” Len said, voice low, painfully gruff.  He adjusted on his legs more, pulling Barry’s hips up against him to get the angle rougher, faster.  He kept the steady, unrelenting thrusts going, Barry shaking and gasping with every motion.  

Barry grabbed his own cock, hardly noticing it was shaking with the rest of him until his hands were on it and he was stroking and it felt like fucking a machine.   _God,_ Barry wondered how this felt to Len.  Barry was a man, living, tight, warm, moving, but the vibrating motion the same as every fucking sex shop toy and well-

The way Len was gasping, thrusting deep forward, arms shaking under the parka and neck flushed with sweat seemed to indicate he was enjoying this.  Fucking Barry like he was going insane, and shit it was so _good._  It was so good.  Len didn’t stop, at all, Barry bordering the sensation of exploding for too long.  

His toes curled up tight, fingers holding the parka grabbing the material and nearly ripping it in his hands.  “Lenny, _fuck-”_ Barry mumbled under his breath, voice interrupted by a gasp with every push inside him, “you’re so fucking- I can’t fucking breathe you- shit I just- Lenny, I love you- _fuck,_ god Lenny- _love_ this- _fuck.”_

And then Len was moving so fast Barry couldn’t bring himself to complain, he wasn’t sure if he was even at superspeed if he could complain about it.  Len moving in and out of him with intensity, dark eyes staring hard at Barry’s face and Barry moaned loud, not able to breathe of think or feel anything but this consistent stream of fucking pleasure.  He stroked his own cock roughly, jerking with uncoordinated motions, hand shaking too much to do much.  And then Len’s relentless pounding of his prostate made his breath hitch up and Barry was done.  

He didn’t say anything, breath and moans caught in his throat, but his whole body tensed and shook for a long moment before anything coherent made sense.  And it was just waves and waves of feeling Len inside him, the other man so much a part of Barry’s body he could hardly stand it- Len’s continued thrusts inside of him through his orgasm driving Barry nearly insane.

He was limp and done in a moment, breath hard and heavy.  And Len was shaking, kissing along Barry’s uniformed chest with rough thrusts into him that were nearly too much.  Barry moaned hard, grabbing Len’s neck, and then Len was jerking hard into him, rough into Barry’s worn prostate and it was _fucking_ incredible.  

Len collapsed onto Barry in a warm, muscled huff, not able to move, still inside him.  Barry’s hands wrapped over Len’s shoulders, a deeply tired and satisfied feeling shaking down into his bones.  He was sure they were sticky, a mess, and they hadn’t even gotten to everything Len had brought up before.

Barry kissed the top of Len’s head softly, before pushing Len’s hips back to pull the other man out of him.  He hissed when they did, his body almost painfully sensitive.  Len grunted, let himself be moved and didn’t protest.

The parka sort of felt like a blanket, Len a big warm pile that had fallen onto him, and Barry held him tight, comfortable.  The room was hot now; the fire Mick had made downstairs warming the house.  It was clean from Mark Mardon’s indoor tornado and fuck- fuck they had a _house,_ a place to fill with knickknacks and to defend.  They had a _bed,_ and privacy, and these things were so different and amazing that Barry felt just… rich.  He kissed Len’s head again.

Len shifted and then was rolling onto his back.  He moved off the bed, bleary eyed, and slipped the condom off.  He shuffled to the bathroom, looking wobbly and Barry grinned as he watched him.  Len wiped himself off with the towel Barry had left on the sink, then stuck his cock back in his underwear and peeled the parka, shirt, boots, socks, and pants off.  He wiped down the shirt and parka with the towel.

_Oh,_ Barry thought, realizing he must have gotten come on the parka and… well that was going to be a really awkward intrusive thought next time he saw Len wearing it.  

“I’m getting _cold,_ Cold,” Barry called out, his voice sounding raw, as he pulled the blanket over himself.  He reached over his head to tug the Flash uniform off and tossed it to the side of the room.

Len walked slowly over to the bed, looking at Barry with something serious in his eyes but a genuine grin on his face.  “Hello… Flash,” Len said gruffly, and he leaned forward when he got to the edge of the bed to kiss Barry softly on the lips.

“Mm,” Barry grinned.  He pulled up the blanket for Len to slip under beside him and when the man did, Barry rested his head on Len’s chest.  Len wrapped his arm around Barry’s shoulders.  “We have all the time in the world Len; and I’m kind of curious what my refractory period is with my new powers.  Plus, you know, you promised I'd get to ride you tonight. You up for that?”  Barry grinned, pressing a kiss against Len's chest.

“Yeah…” Len said slowly, looking up at the ceiling, “I _definitely_ get the appeal of cradle robbing.”

Barry hit him in the face with a pillow.

* * *

Barry and Len were curled up in the way that was becoming familiar, Barry’s head resting on Len’s bicep, Len’s other arm at his hip with Len’s hot breath on the back of his neck.  Barry frowned, pulling the blanket up higher over his shoulders as he heard the knock on the door again.  

Len’s nose brushed against the back of Barry’s hair as he turned his face to said, loudly, voice thick with exhaustion, “Yes?”

The tapping on the bedroom door stopped.  “It’s me,” Mick Rory said roughly behind the door.  

“Well, come in,” Len invited, sitting up and moving away from Barry with a sigh.

“What?” Barry said, suddenly half-awake. He pulled the blanket up tighter to his chin just as Mick Rory opened the door and stomped inside, wearing thick sweatpants and bright orange socks and a too-tight yellow t-shirt with ‘Cancun’ on it that he must have gotten from the previous occupant of his room.  “Um… _hi?_ ” Barry said, pulling his legs up and holding the blanket around him.  Because he was _naked_ underneath there.  

Len didn’t seem to think anything of it, and neither did Mick.  Len sat forward with the blanket pooling in his lap to cover his modesty, casual in front of his friend.  “What’s going on?”

Barry was blushing hard, and he frowned, rubbing his temples and resting his head on his knees.

“Oh, those friends of the Flash came by with breakfast.  Some sort of peace offering I guess?  Hartley was awake doing something. He let them in, they’re in that couch room with Lisa right now.”  Mick Rory said, shrugging.

“Lisa was up?” Len asked, rubbing his eyes with his hands.  He blinked carefully, and then slipped out of the bed.  Like it wasn’t a big deal at all?  And he just walked. completely naked, right over to the boxes and pulled out a pair of underwear and pants.

“Yeah,” Mick shrugged, not seeming to care at all about Len’s nakedness as he said, “She’d been in the shed in the back ‘parently.  Was nailing sharp metal pieces of a broken fence ‘long the top of the wall around this house at six in the a.m.”  Barry wasn’t sure his face could get any redder than he was, and he stared at Len because Len had fucking bruises the size of fingerprints on his shoulders and hips and Mick could _obviously see that.  Jeez._

Len hopped a bit as he pulled the jeans on and zipped them up.  “Alright, did you wake everyone else up?”

“Nah,” Mick said, “Shawna and Mark are up an’ moaning.  I opened it an’ almost got struck by lightnin’.” Then Mick’s eyes skimmed over Len’s chest, focusing on the love bruises with interest.  Barry had to fight himself from jumping up and punching the pyromaniac out the door at superspeed.  “Long night?”

“Yep,” Len said casually.  He held his hand out in front of him and then Mick stepped over, grinning.  Mick gave Len an enthusiastic high five.

_“Seriously?”_ Barry snapped at them, glaring daggers at Mick.

“It’s tradition,” Len said to Barry as he pulled a dark blue t-shirt over his head.  “See you downstairs, Mick.”  

Mick nodded, turning to leave, but right as he left the door he chuckled and gave a look at Barry that made Barry rush forward at superspeed (too fast for Mick to see he was naked) and slam the door shut behind the man.  

_“Testy,”_ Len smirked at Barry as he pulled on socks.  

“Seriously.” Barry repeated, annoyed.  He realized he was cold when a shiver crossed his back, and then Barry ran to the boxes of clothes, hands like lightning as he threw on an outfit for the day, black leggings, shorts, and the red running jacket that he could now admit was his new favorite thing to wear.  “You and Mick _always,_ do that?” Barry asked when he was at normal speed, stepping by Len to get to his running shoes in the closet.

“Just recently,” Len said, lacing up his boots.

Barry frowned.   _“How_ recently?”

“Past month,” Len said nonchalantly.

Barry blinked.  “Every time _we…_ every time?!”

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” Len said with a smirk.  He straightened up, fully clothed and yawning while he cracked his back.  Len grimaced suddenly, holding tight onto his side.  “Fuck, you really wore me out.”

Barry couldn’t manage to look at Len, he concentrated on lacing up the shoes.  “We should do that again,” Barry mumbled.

Len, who’d been walking toward the bathroom but Barry could hear him pause.  “With the uniforms?”

“Yes,” Barry said to his shoes.  

“Whatever you like, Scarlet,” Len said, moving back to the bathroom, “I could learn to love being this sore every morning.”  

Barry wanted to throw another thing at him, but settled for racing past the other man, pivoting around him at superspeed, and getting to the bathroom first.

* * *

“Morning,” Barry said when he reached the bottom of the stairs.  Iris jumped up from her seat on the couch beside Eddie and wrapped her arms around Barry in a hug.  Barry laughed, feeling like he was in a really good mood, and took a moment to hold her before letting her go.  “Hey…” He said, breathlessly, looking around the room, “everybody.”

Caitlin and Cisco were sitting awkwardly next to each other, Cisco holding a box with water bottles and orange juice and Caitlin was holding a tupperware with what looked like scones and muffins in it.  “Hi!” Caitlin said, looking relieved.  Eddie and Iris had been sitting on the larger couch and the Italian guy was with them, apparently he’d been sitting next to Iris, and on the couch across from them, Hartley was sitting with Antoinette on his shoulder and Mick Rory was frowning, legs crossed, in the middle while Lisa lounged over the end of the couch with an orange juice in her hand and an empty bottle of water on her lap.

Iris moved to sit back down, and Len slowly shuffled over, yawning, and sat on the love seat across from Caitlin and Cisco.  Barry looked at the box of orange juice and food and instantly felt starving.  “Um… can I?” He asked, noticing that only Lisa and Iris seemed to be holding any food.  

“Yeah,” Caitlin jumped up nervously, and then was setting the box down on a coffee table between her seat and Hartley.  Cisco, frowning, did the same.  Barry felt awkward being the only one getting food, but then Hartley was reaching over for some and he felt better.  He grabbed two of the orange juices, and three scones (the muffins were reminding him of the cannibal woman and he didn’t want to bother with that) and moved over to sit next to Len.

Len tried to grab one of the orange juices but Barry pulled it out of reach.  “Get your own,” Barry told him, entirely serious.  But then Len took one of his scones instead and started eating it so Barry gave up, handing him the orange juice.

“Pass me one of the muffins,” Mick Rory gruffly ordered Hartley.

Hartley rolled his eyes, and then sigh a long and exaggerated sigh detailing exactly how troublesome it was for him to be forced to reach over, did and handed it to Mick.  “Nice to see you two again,” Hartley said to Cisco and Caitlin.  He broke a piece of bread off his muffin top and held it up to his shoulder for Antoinette to grab.

“Nice _rat,”_ Cisco said, obviously disturbed by the sight of her sniffling along Hartley's shoulder.

“Her name’s Antoinette,” Barry told them, and Hartley glared at him.  “What?” Barry asked Hartley.

Hartley just frowned and sat back in his seat, taking a long drink of water and looking very pissed off.  

“So,” Eddie said, slapping his knees and sitting forward, “are the others coming?”

“No,” Lisa said calmly, her voice a bit sing-songy for someone who had apparently been up early fortifying their fences. _Or maybe she didn’t sleep_ , Barry thought, looking at the tired circles under her eyes.  “Shawna and Mark are otherwise occupied.”

“Oh, they’re together?” Iris asked, a bit of a smile on her face.  

“Yeah,” Hartley said to her even though he was watching Antoinette on his shoulder.  “Since about a week after this all started.  We escaped that horrible prison of yours together; were making our way south but got caught in the weather when Mark started losing control.”

Caitlin and Cisco looked guilty, and Barry shared their uncomfortable expression.

Eddie coughed, loudly, and exaggerated.  “I forgot to introduce you,” he said to Barry.  He gestured to the Italian man.  “This is James Jesse; James, this is our friend Barry Allen otherwise known as the Flash.”

“Hm,” James said, not seeming to interested.  

“Uh,” Barry hesitated, and then figured it would be polite to introduce the rest of the group.  “This is my boyfriend Len,” he said, noticing how James rolled his eyes when he said that, “his sister Lisa, and our friends Mick and Hartley.”

 “Nice to meet you,” the Italian man said, “I’ve heard of Leonard and Lisa Snart before.  We’ve run in similar circles.”

“That so?” Len asked, feigning disinterest.  

“Yep,” James Jesse said loudly, eyeing the group with suspicion. He looked like he wanted to say something but settled on a grimace.  Hartley was looking up for the first time, eyes looking over the brightly colored, horrendously matched clothing the otherwise good-looking Italian man was wearing with approval.  Barry noticed, and for Hartley’s sake did hope the man’s outrageous clothing was some sort of hint toward a non-straight sexuality but the way the man reacted when Barry and Len’s relationship was brought up didn’t seem to indicate James had interest in that direction.

“So… Iris thought,” Eddie said slowly, looking at Barry and then Len, “we might not have handled things the best the other day.  I wanted to apologize.”

“Accepted,” Len said without hesitation.

Eddie smiled that bright big grin that Barry was used to seeing on him.

“I think we should talk sometime later about how we plan to get down to the prison,” Barry said, jumping in.  

Iris shook her head.  “Later, Barry,” she told him, swallowing.  Barry frowned.  He’d assumed Iris would have been just as eager to get Joe back, but then Iris continued saying, “I just got you back, I’d like to wait some time before we jump into danger again.”

Barry nodded with understanding.  He looked down at his hands, frowning as he realized all his food was already gone.  He swallowed anxiously.  “So I guess…”

“Barry mentioned there are other people still living in the city?” Len asked.

“Yes,” Eddie nodded.  

“How many?” Lisa asked, leaning forward, frowning.

“Hardly anyone.  There’s one family who had a sick little girl they couldn’t move, she’s better now but they’ve been surviving pretty well and they’re very friendly to us.  Out on the High Line are a bunch of… doped up college kids,” Eddie told them, “they’re annoying but they’re not dangerous at all.  We haven’t come across anyone else.”

“You said Ronnie came by?” Barry asked Caitlin.

She took a deep breath, smoothing the wrinkles in her shirt again.  “Yeah,” she said, “last time was two weeks ago.  He’d be our way of connecting with Hal Jordan if… you know, if you want to.”

 “Hey, everyone,” Iris reminded, waving her hand and talking loudly, “why don’t we change the subject to… anything besides things likely to kill us or put us in danger?” She looked at Barry, her expression pleading.

The silence was weird after that, because Barry was wracking his brain trying to think of a conversation not related to zombies or finding Joe and Henry and realized it was harder than he thought.  Going out, doing things, and _surviving_ was such a staple of their life that normal conversation was… odd.  He actually had to think about what to say.

“Did you bake this, Cisco?” Lisa suddenly asked, gesturing to her last bite of a muffin.

Cisco looked up, confused.  “Uh… me and Iris did,” he said.

“Oh,” Lisa said, very obviously flirting, as she held the last piece up to her mouth.  “It’s _very_ good,” she told him slowly, voice low and seductive as she put the last piece on her tongue.  

“Mick can make pancakes,” Barry offered, “maybe tomorrow we can make breakfast for you guys?” He looked at Mick and Mick nodded in agreement.

“You cook?” Eddie asked in surprise.

“I like to heat things with fire,” Mick said gruffly.

“We should cook together sometime,” Iris said brightly to the tall, muscled, criminal with a face full of scars.  Eddie stared at her with wide eyes, obviously not liking how friendly she was being but he didn't say anything to protest.  Iris put a reassuring hand on Eddie's knee.

Mick Rory shrugged at the idea.  “Okay,” he said.

“You know, Mark has a music player,” Barry offered, “we could do like some sort of… music night?”

Hartley laughed.  “Like a _dance?”_

“That sounds nice,” Caitlin said, grinning at Cisco who was still staring at Lisa in disbelief.  

Lisa winked at Cisco and said, “What a _lovely_ idea.  Why, after breakfast we should all go looting together to find some supplies for it.  Break up into _pairs.”_ She used her thumb to wipe a nonexistent crumb off her lips.  

Barry was a bit in awe of her flirting ability.  

“It’d be a good way to get to know each other,” Eddie said, looking at the back of Iris’ head, “we haven’t had many… happy days lately.  Not since Jo-”

Iris interrupted him immediately, “I _love_ the idea,” she announced, “we can go find some music from the kids at the High Line, and maybe some more scented candles and things.  It could be a little get-to-know-you party for our groups coming together.  I think Eddie, me, Barry, and Leonard should go, and then the rest of you we can assign some to food and some to alcohol?”

“Alcohol,” Mick decided, raising his hands as if they were voting which one to get.  

“Alcohol and music,” Hartley said, eyes flickering to James Jesse in a look that only Barry noticed, “seems like a dangerous combination but I’m game.”

“Then it’s settled,” Iris said with a final tone in her voice, “we _wait_ before we… go out and…” She stopped that train of thought and said instead, “We get to know each other.”

Barry thought it was a bit of a recipe for disaster, but he ran forward in a flash to grab more scones and then fell back on the couch, resting his head on Len’s shoulder. _It’ll be fine_ , he thought, shrugging off a yawn.  He should probably talk to Hartley though.  And give Cisco a little bit of a warning about how dangerous Lisa could be that Barry did hope Cisco didn’t listen to.  

But taking a 'nice' break? While Joe and Henry were out there somewhere and Barry didn’t know what was happening to them?  The idea was very uncomfortable and Barry wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to just sit still here while his father might be in danger.


	24. The Raiders - Part 1

Iris and Eddie seemed fairly confident walking down the street and eventually Barry eased up, not looking nervously down the street with his hand ready to the knife at his thigh holster every time they passed an intersection.  He’d tossed his red jacket over the Flash uniform.  

They made it twenty blocks, almost across to the center of the town, and didn’t have much farther to walk.  Eddie was leading the group, hands on his weapon, with Iris behind him and Barry and Len making up the back.

Iris and Barry had spent the majority of the time talking about bowling; which seemed to fit the ‘talk about normal things’ parameter.  “Oh,” Iris said after sharing a story about Joe missing a perfect game by a single shot, “remember when we did that double date?  That was fun.”

“With me and Linda?” Barry asked.  Len coughed into his hand and Barry grinned at him.  “You realize I dated people before you, right?”  Len shrugged.  

“We should…” Iris said, looking carefully at the back of Eddie’s head.  “We should find a bowling alley.  You or Peekaboo could fix all the pins so we wouldn’t need the electricity on, it could be fun.”

Barry frowned.  He didn’t like this side of Iris he was seeing, but when his eyes trailed down to the tired circles under her eyes and the practiced way her hand dripped the axe he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.  And after all, pretty much everyone had a way to deny the reality going on here?

Barry and Len had gone from zero to a hundred in a month just like Shawna and Mark, clinging to each other because it was a spot of light in the darkness (and Barry really hated the dark).  They all found little ways to distract or ignore the fact that… society was done.  Any plans they’d made in the world four months ago had ended and everyone was stuck trying to figure out something new.  Not wanting to die; not sure what ‘living’ meant anymore.

“Okay,” Barry said.  He noticed the relieved drop of tension in Iris’ shoulders, and for her sake he added, “Maybe we can do it every week.  Friday Bowling Night.”

“I’d-” Iris started to say, and then Eddie held up his hand and she stopped.

Eddie was looking ahead, concern in his eyes.  Barry looked around them, seeing nothing but the endless, empty city streets.  He couldn’t hear anything either.  “What’s going on?” Barry asked, whispering to Iris.

“Smoke,” Len answered.  

Barry raised his gaze over the buildings to see it.  His first thought was _maybe there’s a bonfire_ and then his second was _damn that’s a big bonfire_.  It took a moment for him to realize that the thick black trail of smoke, heavy like a cloud over the Channel 4 News building, was far too big for anything simple.  

“This hasn’t happened before,” Eddie said, watching the fire as his hands clenched on his weapon.

“I’ll check it out,” Barry said immediately, taking a step backward.  

Len moved forward quickly, grabbing Barry’s arm and holding him still.   _“Wait,”_ Len said with a glare.

Barry frowned at him.  “Len-”

“We’ve talked about this,” Len said under his breath, quiet so only Barry could hear but his voice urgent, “don’t go running off _without me_ until we have a plan.  Wait.”

“We should go around to 2nd,” Iris said to Eddie, “there’s construction over there.  We can sneak in that way and see what’s going on while still having cover.”

Eddie thought for a moment and then nodded.  “That seems smart,” he decided, “everyone in agreement?” He looked back at Len.

“Seems sensible,” Len said to Eddie.  He let go of Barry’s arm.

Iris took the lead then, doubling back down the road to start heading east; they made their way across three streets before they were on their way to 2nd street and pausing in front of a large, fenced up city block.  Barry could see the stairs up to the High Line beyond that, and the smoke coming off of tents and structures but it was hard to see.  

The High Line was a three stories high railway line that used to be used in the meatpacking and fishing district, but when the district moved downtown it fell into disuse.  The structure ended up being an eyesore and was set to be demolished when an architecture firm petitioned the city to turn it into a scenic walkway and a park.  Now the beautiful walkway, weaving between city streets with a good view of the ocean, was flush with plant life and new architectural designs.  It had been a number one destination for local weddings, dates, and other important events; in the morning it grew flush with joggers.  Barry had always liked it and found it a comforting alternative to the parks in the city; he could see why people chose it as a home.  The place would have a good view of the city below it in case of attack, had easily guardable entrances, and plenty of places where plants could grow.

“So,” Eddie said, frowning as he held the large lock over the gate in his hands.  He looked around the side of the fence.  “We can climb it-” Eddie started to say.

“Step back,” Len ordered.  He stepped forward, giving Eddie a look and then Eddie moved away from the fence.  Len raised his cold gun and shot, the metal cracking the lock.  It fizzled, letting off a cold stream of air but not falling off.  Len hit the lock with the end of the gun and it cracked to the floor like a jenga puzzle.  

“That thing _is_ useful,” Eddie noted with a hint of jealousy.  

Len grabbed the gate, tugging hard and pulling it open.  The fence gave a loud squeal of protest, so he carefully opened it just enough for a single person to be able to slip through.  And then he was stepping through into the construction zone.

Barry followed right away, casting up superspeed just enough so he could go through the opening in the gate right after Len.  He saw Iris and Eddie sharing a look, though Barry wasn’t sure what it meant, and then the other two followed right after.  

The construction zone was mostly piles of dirt and bricks, a few walls of wood placed up in certain emptied out zones, waiting to have the interiors filled with concrete.  A large crane provided some cover, and Len ducked behind that for a moment and paused before they made it to the stairs.  “Alright,” Len said, turning around to look at the other three people behind him, “the entire High Line looks like it’s on fire.  Ideas?”

“An accident,” Barry told him, “people could be hurt.”

“The military could be back,” Iris said, looking at the smoke rising from the structure with apprehension.

Eddie frowned at Len, something challenging in his eye before he said, “They could have been attacked by zombies.  The hoard might have left the governor’s building.”

Len shrugged, looking up at the structure.  He grabbed at the hood of his parka and pulled it over his head.  “I’m going with raiders.  Winner gets first crack at bowling.”  

Eddie glared. “This isn’t a _game,”_ he said angrily.

Len chuckled under his breath.   _“Sure.”_

“People could be hurt,” Eddie snapped at Len, looking like he wanted to fight.  Iris put a hand on his arm but Eddie didn’t seem to notice.  She gave Barry a nervous look, the two of them crouching between their respective partners, and damn it was weird.

“People are always getting hurt, it’s called an apocalypse,” Len said to Eddie, obviously annoyed.  “You should take a hint out of your girlfriend’s book and not let that stop you from having fun.”

 _“This_ is fun for you?” Eddie asked, glaring.

“One time when I was drunk I stole a Greek statue of Archimedes from a casino just because I could,” Len said nonchalantly, “I spent six weeks being chased by the mob, skirting off one near death experience after the other.  One of the best experiences of my life.”

“You have a deathwish?” Eddie asked angrily.

Len shrugged.  “Probably.”

“You do _not,”_ Barry said to him, pushing Len’s arm.  

“If you’re going to be chasing danger I don’t want you around,” Eddie snapped.

“Eddie,” Iris warned, looking pissed at him.

“You think I don’t know how to protect myself or my group?  I was on Interpol’s most wanted when I was twenty-two; you’re a rent-a-cop with a holy attitude,” Len said sardonically, eyes flashing angrily as he stared at Eddie.  “My background makes me a survivor.”

“Your background makes you a liability,” Eddie countered.

“And what do you know about living like this?” Len gestured to the empty space around them.  “Working your ass off just to wake up in the morning?  This is my environment.  Don’t act like I’m the threat here because the _real_ threat?” He emphasized with a snarl, “Is _everything else in existence.”_

“Charming guy you have here, Barry,” Eddie growled, glaring daggers at Len.

“Shut the _fuck_ up,” Barry said suddenly.  And even he was shocked about how angry that came out.

“You’re sticking your neck out for this supervillain-”

 _“Thief,”_ Len corrected angrily.

“He’s my boyfriend, what the hell are you expecting, Eddie?” Barry snapped at him.

Eddie’s mouth drew into a hard line.  “I don’t like risking the safety of everyone I’ve worked to protect because _you_ got Stockholm Syndrome locked up with Leonard Snart; letting him _do things_ to you-”

“I do _not_ have Stockholm Syndrome!” Barry leaned forward angrily, past Iris, not sure what he wanted to do but all of the sudden the thought of his fist in Eddie’s face was seeming great.

“ _‘Do things,’_ ” Len repeated with scorn, “are you twelve?”

“Keep your voices down,” Iris snapped, glaring at all three of them angrily, “and Eddie we talked about-”

“You and the others talked about it,” Eddie corrected, frowning, “James and I aren’t convinced at all we should be letting in these untrustworthy people just because Barry says so.  Just because Leonard Snart found a way to make Barry-”

“It’s been a pretty long time since I pointed this gun at you,” Len growled, shifting forward, “I’m tempted to revisit that.”

 _“Lenny,”_ Barry hissed, grabbing Len’s arm that was holding the cold gun just in case.  

“Hello, ‘Testosterone’,” Iris pointed out, “the High Line is on _fire.”_

“He just threatened to _kill me_ , Iris,” Eddie pointed out, his fist clenching at his sides.  

“You’re the one implying Len is manipulating me into sleeping with him,” Barry snapped under his breath.  “Which, by the way, is not your _business.”_

“It’s my business when who you’re getting off with, Barry, means I’m stuck playing nice to a _felon,”_ Eddie argued.

Len looked like he was ready to kill Eddie, his entire body was tense and his facial expression unnaturally calm.  “I’m not thrilled working with a police officer either,” Len told him.

“I _protected_ this city,” Eddie defended, pointing intensely at the ground as he met Len’s stare with his own determined look. “I-”

“You did a shit job,” Len said with a cruel smirk.

Eddie’s eyes widened, mouth dropping in surprise.  He hesitated before replying, Iris pressing a hand on his shoulder to push him back, “You’re honestly blaming me for _this?”_

“I’m blaming the police for years of using the law for their own purposes, prejudice, and criminalizing the poor cl-” Len started to say.

Barry interrupted him.  “Will you two shut _up?_ This is not the time for a political debate!  If you can’t handle working together I will run you both back to the houses and lock you in a fucking broom closet while Iris and I handle this alone!”

Iris nodded in agreement, her steely gaze fixed on both of the men.  “If you insist on being leaders you have to act like it.”

Len, still with the hard look in his eye, leaned forward to snarl into Eddie’s face.   _“Never,”_ he snapped, “imply I _forced_ Barry.  He made the fucking _choice_ to be with me so- _Fuck.  You._ ”

Eddie opened his mouth to speak but Iris gripped his arm so tightly her knuckles were white.  He looked at her for a long moment and the hard line in his face dropped.  Eddie sighed, rubbing a hand against the side of his head.  “I’m sorry,” Eddie said, looking at Barry, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Not accepted,” Len growled just as Barry said, “Thank you.”  Barry frowned at Len.  “ _Thank you_ ,” Barry repeated.

“Let’s move on,” Iris said, standing up and walking to the edge of the crane to peer forward toward the stairs.  

* * *

The High Line

It was monstrous.  There was a woman’s body at Barry’s feet, her stomach swollen like she was heavily pregnant and her head missing.  There was a long, brown patch of hair underneath a smoking tent five yards away and a trail of blood from the woman’s neck to it and Barry couldn’t… he couldn’t…

He stepped backward, straight against Len and Len held him tightly without a word.  They’d all frozen at the top of the stairs, taking in the view in front of them.  

There were tents as far as the eye could see, boxes and cabinets protected with tarps and other makeshift homes- but every item that could be burned was and the line of bodies that extended beyond this work of horror was too many to count.  Barry’s foot had been an inch away from the pool of blood that sunk onto the concrete floor of the highline, a dark red substance that hadn’t even fully dried out yet.  

This had happened recently.

“Oh my god,” Eddie breathed, horrified.

Iris’ hands were shaking but she wasn’t moving, seemingly frozen in place.  “Zombies didn’t do this,” Iris whispered, echoing what everyone was thinking.

“Raiders,” Len mumbled under his breath.  “Not happy to be right about this.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie sighed, no force at all behind it.  

Barry stared down the High Line with a sick feeling in his stomach, trying not to focus on the death around him.  The words Cisco had said echoed in his mind; Cisco had described this as a place where young college kids got high and played songs.  Now it was a crime scene from a serial killer’s basement.

It reminded Barry of the first time he’d gone to a body farm; of how he’d studied photograph’s of Ed Gein’s victims, sat through lectures on Junko Furuta, and read case files from John Douglas.  They were the worst days of his life; the days when he realized just why Joe had been so adamant against him or Iris joining the force.  

This was worse.  There was no room for scientific exploration to get in the way and no assurance that the horrors he was seeing had happened in the past.  He was seeing this with his own eyes and not through photographs.

 _Apocalypse,_ Barry reminded himself.  He had to hold back a scream.

Len gripped Barry tightly in his arms.  “Let’s get down.  Get to the others.  We need to fortify ourselves against this.”

“I sh-” Barry’s voice was weak.  Burying the rising threat of bile in his throat, he forced himself to cough and said in a louder tone, “I should run down the High Line; make sure there are no survivors and the raiders are gone.”  No one protested that, though Barry wanted them to.  Len gave him a tight squeeze and then his hands were letting go, leaving Barry alone and cold.  

With a short look at Iris, meeting her wide, sad eyes with his own, Barry stepped forward and then gave himself in to the lightning.  He raced down to his right first, stopping briefly at every single dead body on the way.

A large boy with a neckbeard and a hole in his chest and head.  Someone holding a broken guitar with mouth wide with horror and a scalped brain.  Two young girls without heads holding each other.  A legless, zombie body who hadn’t been finished off properly but which wasn’t going anywhere.  

More and more, they all passed by him as Barry raced past.  He reached the end, the final drop in the High Line, and then ran back the way he came.  He was past the other three of them in moment and then finishing his search.  No sign of any raiders; no sign of life.  Dead, headless, or brained body one after another with the occasional zombie who hadn’t been killed right.  

He was more than glad when he reached the end.  And then he was back, running forward to Len with so much speed he felt his head practically spinning.

Barry didn’t stop until Len was in sight and then he wrapped his arms around the other man the moment he could.

Len hardly hesitated before pulling Barry tight against him.  “No?” Len asked quietly into Barry’s ear.  Barry just shook his head.

“We should hurry back,” Iris said slowly, turning around immediately to walk down the stairs.

Barry could have insisted on running ahead, but he felt practically stuck to Len’s side.  He couldn’t leave Len or Iris; not after just getting them back not after seeing… what those raiders were capable of.

Human beings doing this to other human beings?

Barry wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he found those non-undead monsters, but he was sure Oliver Queen would approve.

* * *

59th Street

Shawna jumped right in front of Barry’s face when they got within eyesight of the house.  “What happened?” She asked immediately.

Eddie, Iris, and Len all raised their weapons on instinct, startled by the sudden, ghostly appearance of Shawna’s powers.  They relaxed them the moment they recognized her.

“The High Line was… raiders got to them,” Barry told her.

Shawna’s face crumbled.  “Oh god.”

“Mark’s still inside?” Len asked, stepping forward.  

“Yeah,” she said, slowly moving her gaze from one to the other.  Her eyes fell down to her clothes.  She was wearing her leather jacket, a big t-shirt that wasn’t her size and shorts… sleepwear, mostly.  And she wasn’t holding any weapons.  “I guess I had it good for too long? The universe is always trying to fuck with Lashawn Baez, huh,” she mumbled to herself.

“We’ll be okay,” Barry assured her.

Eddie shook his head, jaw set with anger.  “We don’t know that,” he reminded Barry.

“We don’t know we _won’t_ be either,” Iris told him.  

“Everyone,” Len said dangerously.  He glared at the group until he had everyone’s attention, and then he looked at Shawna.  “Teleport back inside.  Get yourself and Mark ready, we’ll walk over to you and then we’re going to get the others.”

Shawna nodded.  She swallowed nervously and then looked behind her.  With a puff of smoke, she was gone.

Len started walking toward the house, just like he said, and the rest of them followed.  Eddie moved up immediately to walk in the front besides Len.  Everyone had their eye on the road around them, every little howl of wind and creek of the Brownstones or buildings around set them on edge.  

“Any chance your Flash suit can contact Cisco Ramon?” Len asked Barry.

“No,” Iris answered him, “the radio is in the study in our house.  It’s not portable; we have the datapad hooked up to a car battery to charge and Cisco didn’t take him.”

“Which is closer? The pagan store or the mall?” Len asked Eddie.

Eddie took a moment to think.  “Pagan store.  It’s on forty-forth and tenth; the shopping mall isn’t too far from that.  I’m sure everyone is still getting supplies so we’ll have to head out.”

“Good,” Len nodded, and he mumbled under his breath, “we can get to Lisa first.”

When they got to the house, Shawna was walking out quickly.  She was holding an umbrella and helping Mark Mardon through the door.  Mark stepped gingerly down the front steps, making a painful expression and his face pale, but with a determined look in his eye he kept walking.  They were both in jeans and leather and Shawna had a gun in her belt loop.  Once Mark reached the bottom step she handed him the umbrella, and Mark used it like a cane to walk toward them.  

“Raiders, huh?” Mark Mardon said roughly, covering the pain in his voice.

“We need to find a place to bunker down, make a stand and be certain they won’t come after us.”

“We have to find the Rodriguez family,” Eddie pointed out, “they’re in danger too.”

Len frowned but didn’t protest the idea.  “Our group first,” he said, and Eddie nodded in agreement.  “You good?” Len asked Mark Mardon.

“What makes you say that?” Mark Mardon asked, breathing heavily and leaning on the umbrella-cane.  Shawna rubbed her hand comfortingly on his shoulder and he let her, sighing.  “I’ll be fine,” Mark said.  He gave Barry a pained grin.  “Us metahumans have to stick together, right?  Can’t let these weak ass _typicals_ go it alone.”

Barry’s eyes widened with shock for a moment and then he smiled.  “Absolutely,” Barry agreed.  

“Three amigos,” Shawna said, forcing the worry out of her voice.  “Onward, then?”  

“Mark,” Barry offered, “I could carry you.  I have pretty damn strong legs and-”

“Hell no.”

“Fair enough.” Barry accepted that.

The group continued forward after Eddie started showing the way.  The path to the pagan store was familiar to both him and Iris; apparently there was a lot of useful things there for the group besides candles.  There was incense, books, candles, candle holders, pieces of cloth, small pouches for storing different items, and all sorts of color-coded objects.  Iris distracted the group with a little backstory of why, which Shawna occasionally interrupted to ask questions.  They kept their voices quiet, nervous, but everyone knew the low chatter was helping them stay focused.  

They were a block away when Barry saw figures moving to their right and he stopped the group.

“Get ready,” Len ordered, raising his gun and waiting as shadows moved behind a car up ahead.  Eddie dropped down to the side, holding the gun steady and standing to the far right.  Barry moved, ready to speed forward; Iris held her axe carefully with Shawna beside her holding her gun out.  Shawna glanced at Eddie for a moment and then adjusted her grip on the gun.  And Mark Mardon held the umbrella over his head, literal lightning crinkling over that hand while his other reached out in front of him with a swirling stormcloud over his palm.

Iris breathed, _“Wow,”_ under her breath, looking at Mark Mardon.

Barry had to agree, he’d never had much of a chance to view the Weather Wizard’s power up close and… it was something, alright.  

For a moment, he let himself look at Mark and Shawna and ignore the immediate threat for the instant it took him to form his thoughts.  Barry was a quick thinker, after all.   _Metahumans,_ Barry realized, _plural._  He didn’t… he’d never met and bonded with other metahumans.  There were heroes, of course, like Oliver and maybe Ray, the Black Canary and others and there was certainly some element of friendship there.  But the little amount of time Barry spent with Ronnie/Firestorm hadn’t allowed them to talk about the particle accelerator explosion-and about having their entire DNA rewritten to suddenly have this massive and crazy power.

Barry realized… well, Shawna liked him and Mark Mardon was apparently growing to like Barry too despite their difficulties (probably Shawna's influence). He hoped they survived today so Barry could just… get a chance to talk about the insane experience of being metahuman with someone else.

The first figure came out from behind the shadow.  It was a zombie, and Barry breathed a sigh of relief.  At least zombies were familiar.  They’d never met raiders and Barry, seeing what those people were capable of, didn’t want to.

There were five more figures moving behind the car.  Once the first zombie saw the group, its dead eyes focused intently on them and it slowly began ambling forward.  It was formerly a woman, she had a crossing guard jacket and her leg was twisted disgustingly around, making the monster hobble even worse- the decay had set in, making her skin grey, stretched dry, and blue.  

“I got her,” Shawna announced.  And then she was jumping forward, straight behind the monster and her gun went off directly into the back of its head.

Black bits and pieces of skull, dried out and sick looking, fell to the cement floor in front of the zombie as it swayed to its knee and then fell, hollow, to the floor.  Then Shawna turned, looking at the other five figures who were too close to her for comfort.

“Shawna!” Mark Mardon yelled.  

Shawna disappeared in a huff and then was standing beside Mark.  “Miss me, lover?” She asked, her voice shaking with nervousness that she played off as a laugh.

“We can’t shoot if you’re in front of them,” Len told her as he shot off his cold gun.  A blue, icy arc dropped to the floor in front of the monsters.  The first one slid, falling to the ground and… it was kind of funny if it wasn’t for the way the zombie’s elbow sprang up through its forearm because that was disgusting.

“Thank you, Shawna, you were so nice killing the zombie for us, Shawna” Shawna corrected.  

Eddie shot at the zombie on the ground, taking two bullets to hit it square in the eyes.  Shawna lifted her gun, aiming wildly, but then Len yelled, _“Lightning”_ to Mark Mardon.  Len shot a long stream of the ice toward the five figures.  Mark Mardon jumped ahead, aiming with the umbrella and then shooting a bolt of lightning from his freaking fingertips, _holy fuck._  

The zombies were frozen, shaking, not moving, as some sort of electric current shook through them.  Eddie had stopped shooting, staring at Mark in amazement.

“My cue!” Barry decided, “Don’t shoot me.”  

He slipped the hunting knife out of the holster on his thigh and didn’t wait for a reply.  Running forward at superspeed, Barry held the knife in front of him.  He went in front of all four of the incapacitated monsters immediately and slammed the knife into their skulls.  It was dirty work, and when it came to the last one an electric shock traveled up Barry’s hand but it dissipated with his own movement and was gone in an instant with no ill effects.  He stepped back the moment he was done.

The feeling of speed dissipated and Barry frowned, turning around and looking for something to wipe his knife on.  

“Wow,” Iris said with a huge smile on her face.  She looked between Shawna, Mark, Len, and then Barry.   _“Wow._  You guys did that so… that was so easy for you?”

“Small groups are,” Len told her with a nod.  He pulled the goggles off his face and dropped his hood again.  “It’s when they hoard it’s an issue.”

“Or when we’re dealing with humans, like DeVoe’s people,” Shawna said with a grimace.

“Or,” Barry said, giving up and wiping the knife on the ground before sliding it into his thigh holster, “those cannibals.”  Len frowned, looking at Barry and sharing a look as they remembered.  Then a different emotion shifted over Len’s face and he had a fond smile, tilting his head as his eyes flickered to Barry’s lips.

Barry didn’t understand and he looked at Len with confusion on his face.

“Good work,” Eddie said, glancing at Mark Mardon again with something unreadable on his face.  “Let’s keep going.”

Len nodded, gesturing for Eddie to take point, and then the group was walking again.  There were no more incidents on the way to the pagan store, which ended up looking like some nice, homemade, cross between an organic soap business and a privately owned bookstore.  The name ‘Enchantments’ was written over the top with fancy writing, and the windows were mostly blacked out thanks to heavy curtains.  The door was glass, with a hole right beside the handle that looked like a rock had smashed through.  

“We should keep some people guarding outside,” Eddie said, turning his back and looking down the road.

Len shrugged, accepting that, and he opened the door and walked inside.  Barry followed him without a thought.  

The entire place smelled nice, too much incense and new-paper smell keeping the decay of bodies and trash from the rest of the city out.  There was a thick carpet on the floor, that was purple, and when Barry looked up he saw a large counter to the side with a tree trunk of pentacles handing behind it.  To his right was the incense, to his left a shelf of all sorts of books.  Straight in front of them he could see all sorts of cloth hanging along several towel ranks set haphazardly into the wall.  They were lacy, with symbols drawn onto them.

Barry moved over to the wall instantly, and grabbed a piece of cloth.  It was blue, the exact same color as the bedsheet that used to hang in the RV.   _This is the new curtain for the bedroom,_ Barry decided.  And he pulled the cloth off the rack and set it on the counter. Barry made a mental note to come back and get it.

Len was standing in the middle of the room looking at him curiously.  “What’s that abou-” Len started to say.

They both heard it at the same time, a low moan and a gasp and then Cisco mumbling, “We can’t, can we? Should we? Oh god, Lisa you-”

Barry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.  

“Lisa!” Len yelled immediately, “There’s been a change in today’s activities.”

“Holy fuck,” Cisco’s voice said, still far away.  There was a lot of rustling, someone said the word ‘ouch’ about three times and then a door in the far back of the store was opening. There was a short hallway, one full of candles, and Lisa basically strutted down it.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and grinned at Len.  “You’ve never been so overprotective before, Lenny,” she said with a pout.

Adjusting his shirt, something from _Portal 2,_ Cisco walked through the door after her with his eyes downcast and hair wildly mussed.  “Uh… holy… uh…” Cisco said, not able to look up.  He stumbled when his foot hit a box of scented oils on the floor and then hopped on one foot for a moment.

Lisa had turned around, grinning at him.  She had a predatory but fond look in her eye.  “We were _just_ about to spend some quality time together, Lenny,” Lisa said with a sigh.  She looked… happy.

Barry really wished they hadn’t been forced to interrupt them.  He tried to catch Cisco’s eye, give his friend a reassuring grin but Cisco was staring at the floor like he was afraid Len was actually going to beat him up.

“Raiders got to the people on the High Line,” Len told Lisa seriously.

Lisa sighed.   _“Fuck,”_ she snapped.

“Raiders?” Cisco asked, looking up at Barry.  “My brother joined some of them, the rest of my cousins too.  They’re not all bad.”

“These are,” Barry told him, “the… all the people on the High Line are gone.”

Cisco’s eyes widened and he looked like he was going to be sick.  “All of them?”

“We have to get to the others and find a place to lay low or make a stand,” Len said.  He turned to leave and then paused, looking at Cisco.  “Kid, I don’t care.”

Cisco blinked at him.  “Oh,” he looked at Lisa, who smirked at him, and then back at Len.  “You… you don’t?”

“No.  I don’t,” Len repeated.  He shifted the gun in his hand and Cisco flinched.  “Alright, let’s find the others and be on our way.”

* * *

The East Side Shopping Mall

The moment they reached the mall… things got weird.  They’d rushed into the building only to be confronted by Caitlin who was mumbling incoherently about ‘purple eyes’.  She grabbed Cisco’s hands, holding him tightly, and stared forward without seeing.  Her body was trembling and she didn’t seem to have control over it.

Shawna immediately went toward feeling her pulse.  “Caitlin?  Dr. Snow?” Shawna asked, snapping her fingers in front of Caitlin’s eyes but the doctor didn’t even blink.

“What happened?” Eddie asked Caitlin with authority, “Do you know where the others are?”  Caitlin continued to mumble, and Eddie reached out to shake her shoulder but Shawna grabbed his hand and pushed it away.  “Caitlin!” Eddie said, trying an encouraging tone, “James, Rathaway, Rory, where are they?”

Barry glanced around the mall, noticing how the sleek surface and up-to-date architecture didn’t even have freaking dust on it.  It was like stepping back in time and for some reason the lack of destruction or decay seemed… creepier than actual signs of looting.  His eyes flickered up to movement on the second floor.  

Len and Lisa were walking forward, holding their guns.  Len saying, “Mick?” softly as they glanced into the first store, so Barry didn’t bother talking to him.

There was a green cloak in the distance on the second floor, Barry saw it for an instant before it turned the corner and was gone.  Barry gathered his speed and rushed forward immediately.  

“Hartley!” Barry yelled, running forward to grab the other man’s sleeve.  He knew they were out of sight of the others but Barry was worried; Hartley was his friend, so was Caitlin, and something had _happened_ to them.

“Get off of me!” Hartley yelled, turning around swiftly and raising his sonic machine covered hands to Barry’s chest.  Barry raised his hands in innocent defense but then he heard some sort of _noise._

He speeded away in an instant, ducking through the door to the Hollisters just as a sonic blast ripped through the air right where he’d been.  “You…” Barry looked up in shock.  His back was against a poster on the wall.

Hartley stepped through the door, glaring at Barry with an angry expression that twisted his entire features.  The piper’s broken glasses hung loosely over his face and he didn’t bother to fix them.   _“Fuck_ you,” Hartley said.  His whole body seemed to shake with anger.

Barry glanced to his right and his left, seeing there was clear room for him to run into the main section of the store and- gross, the store still had that awful musk smell that all Hollister’s had except it was stale and- he shook his head to clear it.  “What’s going on?” Barry said, raising his hands again but keeping his body tensed to run in any direction.

Hartley stopped, hands at his sides, one holding the flute and the other clenched as tight as he could with the sonic gloves.  “Fuck _me,_ why don’t you? Why won't you?!” Hartley yelled.  

“Um…” Barry stared.

Hartley raised his gloved hand again and then Barry bolted.

He raced to his left and stumbled into a rack of clothes without realizing it.  The motion sent him reeling into a wall with his arms and legs tangled in sweaters.  The entire place, Barry realized, was… it was a _store,_ with doors, tables, and racks of clothes all designed to keep someone walking around.  There was hardly and space for Barry to build up speed.

There was a picture frame right over Barry’s head that shattered into pieces, getting into his hair and all down his shoulders and chest.  Something cut down along Barry’s ear and the side of his cheek before he noticed.  

Barry cursed and then sprung up, disentangling himself.  He ran behind one of the wall dividers and yelled back at Hartley.  “What the _hell_ are you doing, Hartley?!”

Barry could hear Hartley breathing hard, and the crack of glass as Hartley stepped onto a piece of it slowly.  He kept his head against the wall divider, not daring to look out.   _What.  The.  Fuck._

“Didn’t you notice at all?!” Hartley yelled.  There was a crash as something else shattered, but it wasn’t near Barry.  “I would have done _anything_ you wanted!  You’re so fucking _good_ and nice to me all the damn time, why did you even do that?!”

“This isn’t the _time,_ Hartley-”

Hartley interrupted immediately.  “You asked me for advice about you and that _fucking asshole_ who doesn’t fucking deserve _to kiss your feet_!”

Barry blinked in surprise.  His hand had been reaching up to brush glass out of his hair but he froze.  “Wh- what?” Barry asked, and he carefully moved just enough to peer beyond the wall divider.

Hartley was glaring at him with his eyes bright… red.

Hartley’s eyes were _red._

“I would have done anything for you and you chose some high school fucking _dropout_ over _me!”_ Hartley raised his weaponized hand toward Barry.

“Bivolo?” Barry wondered out loud. Then he was dodging right as fast as he could to avoid being blown to bits by the Pied Piper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Classic case of "these characters have had it TOO GOOD for TOO LONG". Honestly I was itching to write more action scenes, you know? 
> 
> I'm happy I got this out to celebrate the season finale. :)
> 
> Introducing the raiders; which, by the way, is an umbrella term for any group of humans who've adopted a sole-survivors mentality and are hostile to other groups they come across. Basically, a group which has placed their survival above caring or protecting anyone else they come across. They aren't always overly violent but certain groups are and that is why people are so afraid of them. Sometimes they're just other human beings trying not to die but sometimes they're Reavers (like from Firefly). These ones... are the bad ones.
> 
> And how could I introduce enemy raiders without the Rainbow Raider? I mean, like, the puns just demanded it.


	25. The Raiders - Part 2

Barry was pushing Hartley’s face into the ground, knee pressing into the small of the piper’s back to hold him steady while his free hand gripped Hartley’s hand, trying to push them into the floor.  “Calm _down,”_ Barry urged, doing his best to keep his friend from moving or injuring himself.  It was not easy in the slightest.  Barry’s ears were currently ringing, and his arm had been hit with something had made it vibrate for almost a minute before it stopped and he, frankly, was pretty glad that under normal circumstances Hartley was his friend.

Because _damn,_ even for someone without meta-human powers, Pied Piper was a powerhouse.

“You’re going to be so embarrassed by this,” Barry said with a grunt.  Hartley struggled to lift his shoulders, wrists twisting under Barry’s grip and it was not going to be long before the man was free.

“ _brutum fulmen_! I’m going to _kill you_ ,” Hartley yelled, even with his face pushed into the floor.  The piper’s glasses had been thrown off somewhere and Barry felt guilty bad. Barry had no idea where the glasses were.  The store was pretty much in pieces, walls had been burst open and all the racks of clothing tossed to the ground.  “I _hate_ you!”

“Whoa! Barry, what the hell?!” Cisco’s voice rang out entrance to the store.  Barry froze for a moment, and Hartley actually did to.

Cisco was standing in the front, holding one of his revolver pistols in his hand though the arm was dropped to the side.  Lisa was next to him, her grip on the gold gun much more practiced.

“ _Fuck you_!” Hartley yelled, and Barry pushed his head into the floor again.

“Bivolo is here, Caitlin saw him, she’s not okay-” Cisco started to say.

“I know,” Barry told Cisco with a pointed look at Hartley, “Bivolo got to him.”

“How exactly does this ‘Bivolo’-” Lisa started to ask.

She was interrupted when Hartley suddenly pulled his right hand free, and the sonic glove was aimed straight at Cisco.  Barry reacted quickly.  He grabbed Hartley’s arm and tossed the wrist to the side.  The blast when to the side, blowing up another chunk of drywall.

Hartley’s other hand was free, and Barry grabbed that and then pushed both wrists into the ground.  Hartley raised his head and said straight at Cisco, unabashed venom in his voice, “ _Fuck you_ , you bonafide trash, you fucking cheap ass scholarship kid!  Everyone felt _bad_ for you, you know! _facile est inventis addere_! That’s why they liked yo-”

“Can we gag him?” Cisco asked, annoyed.  

“We need something to tie him up,” Barry agreed.  Lisa was looking at Hartley with curiosity as if she was studying him.

“-coming in and suddenly you’re the new _poster child_ with your _half-assed_ theories and the attention span of a _walnut-”_

“Uh… you think he’s opposed to scarves?” Cisco asked, reaching down and lifting one up from a pile on the floor.

Hartley tried to throw Barry off again but Barry held him down tightly, the muscles in his legs forcing Hartley’s legs down and his hands holding his wrists tightly.

“I don’t understand,” Lisa wondered, tilting his head and speaking between Hartley’s outbursts, “Caitlin had a very different reaction.”

“Different colors, different emotions,” Cisco told her.  He walked slowly up to Hartley, looking with concern at the man’s hands.  Hartley’s head snapped up, and eyes glared at Cisco, and for a moment they looked at each other.

“Wells _loved_ you,” Hartley snapped viciously, _“adored_ you.  Suddenly all he could _talk about_ was fucking _Cisco_ fucking _Ramon_ the charity case.  Well fuck you! Wells was a fucking murderer so who fucking cares what he thought! After _everything I gave up_ to work at _fucking STAR Labs_ Wells-”

Cisco’s shoulders shook with laughter and a grin crossed his face.  He opened his mouth to talk but Barry stopped him.  

 _"Cisco,”_ Barry said seriously, “he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“Okay, okay,” Cisco acknowledged, but the grin didn’t leave his face.  He bent down, careful, watching Barry’s fingers as he looped the scarf around Hartley’s first wrist.  “Um… you realize maybe people didn’t like you because you were an ass to everyone?”

Hartley tried his hardest to push Barry off and failed again.  “ _Fuck you!_ Fuck you and _everything_ about you-”

“Stop antagonizing him!” Barry growled at Cisco.  “He’s _under Bivolo’s control.”_

Barry let go of Hartley’s one hand to grab the scarf, pulling it tight and moving the hand behind Hartley’s back.  It was harder to tie the other hand, Barry had to hold it with both his hands while Cisco was careful with the other one, but eventually they managed to firmly lock both of Hartley’s hands away where he couldn’t do any damage.

When Barry finally got off of him, Hartley tried to kick his stomach but Barry jumped away with a flash.  He grabbed Hartley’s shoulders, throwing the other man up and buffeting any attempt Hartley did to get out of his grip.  

In a moment of inspiration, Barry pulled Hartley’s hood down over his head.  “Let’s tie this on him,” he ordered to Cisco.

“Like a blindfold?”

“ _Fuck you,_ fuck you, _fuck_ you-”

“Maybe if it’s dark enough he won’t be able to see the red,” Barry figured, and Cisco grabbed another scarf and they looped it around Hartley’s eyes, over the cloak, and pulled it tightly.  

“ _Fuck you,_ Barry, why can’t you-”

Barry sped back to grab another scarf and he stuffed it into Hartley’s mouth.  “Um… this is for your own good,” Barry said, firmly aware of how embarrassed Hartley was going to be when he came to his senses.

It was bad enough Barry had heard about Hartley's... feelings for him.  There was no way Barry could let his friends be humiliated and allow everyone else to hear it too.  He could talk to Hartley about it in private another time when there wasn't the threat of violent raiders keeping them on edge.

 _If_ he came to his senses.  Last time, when Bivolo had done this trick to Barry and others, Bivolo either relinquished control or the STAR Labs group had used a color-flashy-lights-device-thing to stop it.  

“Shall we take our prisoner downstairs?” Lisa asked.

“Right,” Barry grabbed Hartley’s shoulders.  The other man protested, trying to move away but he eventually let himself be led forward.  “So… what’s going on with the others?”

“We were splitting into groups to try and find the rest of everyone.  Also _you,_ by the way, since you kind of _vanished,”_ Cisco said annoyed.  He grabbed Hartley’s arm to help Barry maneuver the man outside the doors and toward the broken escalators.  

Lisa walked by their side, holding her gun and guarding them.  Her eyes flickered in every direction and her walk was careful and calculated.  “Len practically had a fit,” Lisa said, to Barry though she was looking around for threats.  

“I thought he was going to kill someone,” Cisco agreed.

“I really didn’t expect Hartley to be like this when I went after him,” Barry said with a frown.  He felt guilty but justified.

“He worries about you,” Lisa reminded.  She turned sharply, her eye looking carefully down the hallway like she saw movement.  

Hartley tried to resist walking down the broken escalator, but Barry pushed him and the motion was easier.  Barry did not like seeing Hartley blind or gagged, even knowing how necessary it was, the sight of his friend this helpless was not comforting.  Barry made a mental promise to punch Bivolo in the eyes on Hartley and Caitlin’s behalf.

“Barry can take care of himself, he’s the Flash,” Cisco said firmly.

Lisa, still keeping guard, chuckled under her breath.  “Barry’s a Rogue now, and we aren’t solo acts.”

“Barry isn’t a _Rogue,”_ Cisco said loudly, and then remembered to drop his voice and he added, “no offense, Lisa-”

“I am… _so_ offended,” Lisa said with a grin.

“I kind of am a Rogue?  I mean…” Barry said, hesitating over the words.  They reached the bottom of the escalator and he turned right, grabbing Hartley’s shoulder and cloak and pulling him toward the entrance of the mall.  “It’s not the same as it was before, it’s more like… our group.  We survive.”

“You can join if you want, Cisco,” Lisa offered, smirking, “you’d have to move houses.  Though I know one room that’s a little… lonely.  Could use a male presence.”

Cisco froze, eyes widening as he stared dead ahead.

“Stop flirting with my friend in front of me,” Barry said, annoyed, as he kept a strong grip on Hartley.

“Stop cuddling with my brother in front of me and I will,” Lisa replied.  

“We do not _cuddle-”_

“Hey!” Eddie Thawne yelled.  He and the others were standing by the mall entrance, waiting around the large, box-like advertisement for a horror movie about a psycho clown.   _Just what we need,_ Barry thought, looking at the evil yellow grin on the sign, _something to make this even creepier._  “What’s with the…” Eddie stepped forward, gesturing to Hartley as they walked closer.

“It’s Hartley,” Barry told him.  

“Figured, I don’t know anyone else who wears a green cape, but why is he-” Eddie asked as his eyes flickered over Hartley’s restraints.

“Bivolo,” Cisco said, jumping forward.  Cisco seemed to be pointedly not looking at Lisa, and he moved forward quickly.  “Did the whole ‘angry’ thing.”

Iris and Shawna had Caitlin wrapped in a blanket, and they were both holding her still.  Caitlin was holding her head, nervous and shaking.  Barry and Cisco paused for a moment, and then Len, standing by the advertisement, gestured for them to bring Hartley over.

“We have to find a way to hold him down unti-” Barry started to say.

Len aimed his gun at Hartley’s boots and shot.  A thick circle of ice gripped the bottom of Hartley’s boots and froze him to the floor.  Hartley struggled, but he couldn’t lift his feet.

“That works,” Barry said.

Len snorted, and moved over to Lisa.  “You good?” He asked her.

Lisa rolled her eyes.   _“Fine.”_

“We’re still missing Mick,” Len told Eddie, “I don’t like the thought of Mick ending up like these two.  Mick doesn’t handle fear well.”

“Mick doesn’t handle _anything_ well, his default is ‘burn everything’,” Lisa said with a sigh.  She set her hand on her hips and leaned over, stretching her side.

“We have to get these two somewhere safe,” Shawna said, clapping her hands together.  She stood up, but Caitlin grabbed her wrist and held her down.  “Or only a few people can go out looking for Mick.  The sooner Caitlin can calm down the better it’s not good for her to be-” Shawna shared a look with Iris.  Something passed between them, Shawna swallowed nervously and Iris raised her eyebrows.  

“I don’t know where Antoinette is either,” Barry said pointedly.

“Oh no,” Shawna said with a grimace.  

“Hartley _needs_ Antoinette around,” Mark Mardon said, leaning against his umbrella.  His eyes kept flickering over to Hartley with genuine concern, and both he and Shawna had the same, uncomfortable expression looking at Hartley that Barry felt.

“Why is that name familiar?” James Jesse, who had been leaning against a plant by the door and looking at Hartley with an unreadable expression, stepped forward.  Barry let himself, for a moment, look at the man’s bright orange and blue, pinstriped pants and the polka dotted yellow and black shirt.  James had dark blue pleather jacket over the thing the man looked ridiculous.  At first Barry had assumed that James had just run out of clothing and was wearing whatever, but after seeing him in a couple different outfits apparently the guy chose to dress like that.

“She’s Hartley’s rat,” Barry reminded the group, “if anyone sees her you have to bring her along.  Hartley’s not going to forgive himself if she goes missing while he’s under Bivolo’s influence.”

“And how are we supposed to find a single rat when there are likely millions in Central City?” Len asked, his voice calm but Barry could hear the annoyance.

He looked at Len, confused.  Len stared at him back, eyes hard.  Barry reached up with his hand, snapping his ring and middle finger against his thumb quickly.  “She comes up to you if you do this,” he explained, “Antoinette is trained.  Hartley has his flute but…” Barry gestured to the flute tied to Hartley’s side, “I don’t know how to play it and I don’t think anyone else does.”  Barry suddenly remembered Hartley’s glasses and felt even worse.  

He felt a hand on his shoulder.  Barry looked up to see Len with a softer expression on his face.  Len hesitated for a moment and then pulled Barry into a hug and Barry complied, wrapping his arms around the other man.  Len kissed the side of Barry’s neck and held him tight before he mumbled softly into Barry’s ear, “Piper and Snow will be okay.”

“I know,” Barry said, pulling away just enough so he could press their foreheads together.

“Stop running off,” Len said under his breath.

Barry chuckled.  “It’s a bad habit.  I’m sorry.”

Len kissed Barry’s forehead and then gave him another short hug before they both let go.  

Cisco was saying something about the technology the STAR Labs group used last time to stop Roy Bivolo’s powers, and when Len and Barry let go of each other every member of the group pretended they’d been listening.  “I’m not sure if I can replicate it,” Cisco explained, “but I have to try or else there’s no telling if we can fix Caitlin or Rathaway.”

“Or Mick,” Lisa reminded him.

“We’ll have to split up then,” Len said, stepping forward to look Eddie in the eye.  “Some of us have to find Mick and the others should go with Cisco to manufacture a cure.”

“Also,” Iris pointed out, “we need some people to stay with Hartley and Caitlin.  Barry could speed them back to the houses but then if the raiders went there we’d all be too far away to help.”

“It’s better not to move them,” Shawna agreed.  “I think Iris and I should stay here.”

“I’ll stay with you too,” Mark Mardon said immediately.

“No,” Len ordered, “one metahuman with each group.  If the raiders have Bivolo we need to have the same or better firepower.”  Mark Mardon looked uncomfortable but he nodded and accepted that.  “Lisa should go with the group to find Mick,” Len said, “I should go with Cisco.  I have a lot of knowledge about building tech from scratch resources. Mardon goes with Lisa and Barry goes with me.”

Eddie frowned.  “You going to order all of us around then?”

“I didn’t tell you or yours what to do, Officer Thawne,” Len pointed out.  He glared at the other man.  

Eddie sighed, taking a deep breath.  “Alright.  James will stay here-”

“What about ‘James does whatever James wants’?” James Jesse asked with annoyance.

“I’m not leaving the number of ‘crazed Bivolo zombies’ to our people two-to-two,” Eddie explained, “so either you go chase after the likely pissed off fire-starter or I do.  Your choice?”

“I’m going after the fire-starter,” James Jesse said immediately, folding his arms across his chest.

“You can defend yourself?” Lisa asked him, curious as her eyes flickered over his clothes.

James Jesse laughed.  “Oh,” he said, leaning against the advertisement of the clown, “I can _definitely_ defend myself.  These guys tell you how they met me?  I was a one man, acrobatic show in Central City before the zombies left; jumping along the rooftops and playing games with the fuckers.”

“You do look crazy enough,” Lisa conceded.  “But Mick’s dangerous too, so you need to keep your guard up.”

“You think this ‘Mick’ is better than a sexy, long-legged knockout with a super gun, Mr. Weather over there, and me?” James Jesse asked, giving Lisa an exaggerated wink.

Lisa wasn’t even phased.  “I think,” she said confidently, “Mick is good enough to get in some lucky shots.  Don’t come with us if you can’t handle being burned.”

James Jesse rolled his eyes.  “Don’t come with me if you don’t have a sense of humor, doll.”

“Can we stop chatting and get on with this?” Len said.

“Yes,” Eddie agreed.  “Alright.  Both groups try and be back here in an hour.  Scream if you need help, we’re all in the same building so we should be able to hear.”

* * *

Cisco shoved an assortment of wires and screws onto the floor before bending over and pulling out whatever seemed important.  Barry held the basket next to him so Cisco could put the supplies in.  It looked random to Barry.

“We need one of those strobe lights,” Cisco said.

Len nodded, glancing over to the next aisle.  The store they’d found was a robotics and electronics store, Cisco had pieces salvaged from a television, ipod, and all sorts of scraps that apparently was going to make something close to the device they’d used before.  “Sure we’ll find one,” Len told him.

Cisco looked up, frowning, and then went back to picking pieces from the pile on the floor.  “So you’re familiar with robotics?” He asked.

“Timers, bombs, guns, mostly,” Len said with a shrug.  He leaned against the side of the wall.  Occasionally he’d glance down both of the aisles, still alert, but his position was relaxed.

“Guess that makes sense,” Cisco said.  He stood up, stretching his back with a sigh.  “Okay… strobe light, than we need to put this together.”

“Hold this,” Barry said, handing the basket to Cisco.  The moment it was out of his hands, Barry called the lightning to his side and was gone in a flash.  He raced down the aisles, glancing through at all of the different equipment until he found a shelf with lava lamps and… there.  Barry grabbed two different strobe lights and was back in front of Cisco in a moment.  “So,” he said, reeling a bit from letting the speed go, “right or left?” Barry held them both up.

Cisco blinked in surprise but recovered quickly.  “Right,” he decided, grabbing that one and setting it down.  “Okay, I think we can put it together over here.”

They walked over to the counter, and Cisco pushed the cash register over so he could lay his items down on the still conveyor belt.  He organized them quickly into piles, obviously seeing the differences in the little pieces of machinery with little effort and Barry thought it was pretty impressive.

Barry, stepping over just a little, crouched down and snapped his fingers.  He’d been doing that occasionally this whole time, holding out hope that Antoinette might come running, but yet again there was no response.  

“You guys really think we can take those raiders if they come by?” Cisco asked as he worked.  

“Yes,” Len said immediately.

Cisco kept his hands busy with the strobe light; he was undoing most of it with a screwdriver and pulling off the outer layer to reveal each individual bulb one at a time.  He mumbled, still loud enough for the other two to hear, “I’m never going to get over how weird this is.”

“Get over what?” Barry asked.  He sat up on the edge of the counter by the register, his back leaning on the rack filled with plastic bags.  From the viewpoint he had a good line of sight down the whole store and toward the door that led back into the mall.  

“Living in the Twilight Zone,” Cisco said.  He grunted as he pulled the last parts of the strobe light apart.  He tossed the spare pieces of metal to the floor and worked on disentangling the cords attached to the plethora of differently colored lightbulbs.  “Zombies.  Central City.  You’re dating Leonard Snart.”

Len rested his back against the rack of expired candy with a smug grin.  “Here I thought you had a soft spot for us Snarts, Cisco,” he pointed out.

“That’s awkward,” Cisco mumbled, hitching his shoulders as he worked, “but fair.”

“The living dead situation is definitely not the best,” Barry said, moving the subject as he saw a blush rising on Cisco’s face.  “Worse that all the living people are trying to kill each other now.  It’s not like there’s a shortage of supplies anywhere; everyone should be able to get along.”

“People get scared,” Len said nonchalantly, “when people get scared they lash out.  Sometimes preemptive striking is better than waiting for the alternative.”

“They’re killing other living people,” Barry said with a frown.

“Obviously it’s not ideal but that’s why,” Len told him.  “A person will put up with a lot just to stay alive and keep loved ones safe.”

“No one should be murdering any other survivors,” Barry said.

“I agree.”  Len watched Cisco working with interest.  “So that device is going to flash different colors at a rapid pace into the person’s eyes?”

“Yeah,” Cisco said, “basically forcing the brain to stop the pattern of repeating Bivolo’s color over and over.  It overloads the mind and makes someone forget the old color and focus on the others being shown in their face.”

“Bivolo’s power is interesting,” Len said with a nod.  He looked back at the door.  “I’d say we entered the Twilight Zone right when random people started showing up with superpowers,” he decided.

“Um, what’s the Twilight Zone?” Barry asked, confused.

“Did you never watch t.v.?” Len asked Barry with a grin.

“Ok, wait, Leonard Snart gets my pop culture references but you don’t?” Cisco chuckled as he screwed the light bulbs onto the sides of a cone-like structure.  It looked like he was planning to set the cone in front of a person’s face and block out all other light, forcing the person to look into the rapidly flashing colors.  The rest of the structure was looking a bit like the end of flashlight.  

“Len likes _Breaking Bad_ ,” Barry told Cisco.

Cisco looked confused.  “Everyone likes _Breaking Bad,_ Barry.”

“I was in a coma for nine months,” Barry defended.

“Still more than enough time to catch up on Netflix,” Cisco asked.  “Seriously, what do you even like to watch?”

“I liked _Pushing Daisies?”_ Barry said apologetically, _“X-Files._    _Psych._ Um.  I was really into _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ in college.”

“I’ve referenced Buffy so many times!” Cisco pointed out, “You never mentioned that!”

“I don’t remember everything that happened in the show,” Barry said with a frown.  He looked at Len.  “How did you have so much time to watch tv then?”

“Six months between each job,” Len explained.  “Hide after the last one, spend the money, and plan for the next score.  There’s a lot of downtime in what I do.”

“Yeah, see, I had practically no vacations,” Barry pointed out, “I was working full time at the CCPD right after college and then, you know, I became the _Flash.”_

Cisco shrugged.  “I’ve always been busy but like, I mean, I still found time to binge on t.v.  It’s a staple of our century.”

“Lisa’s favorite film is the _Entrapment,”_ Len said, looking at Cisco with an expression Barry couldn't read, “she’s watched it so much I think she has it memorized.”

“With Sean Connery?”

Len shrugged.  “It’s likely why she keeps getting into art heist kicks, though I can’t approve.”

“What’s wrong with art heists?” Cisco asked, interested.

“Impossible to sell,” Len explained.  “If you make half of the piece’s worth it’s considered a good score; there are very few collectors willing to buy stolen art.  It can’t be displayed anywhere publicly once it’s been stolen unless a good few decades have past and the collector can claim it as ‘a rare find found in a vintage store’.”  Len scratched at his chin casually, adjusting his position.  “Besides, the jobs are too easy; museum security is rather abysmal.”

“Cool,” Cisco said with admiration.

“But you still go along with it?” Barry asked, curious.

“No,” Len said simply, “we only worked together half the time.  Lisa had her own operations.”

There was a moment of silence as Cisco kept working, not enough was happening.  Barry kept waiting to hear a scream from one of the other groups, his attention on edge, but nothing happened and he was grateful for every second that went by without danger.  He snapped his fingers again.  

“Are you um…” Cisco swallowed nervously and looked closer at his project.  His voice was a low whisper as he mumbled, “Okay with me and Lisa? I mean,” he added, louder, in defense, “not that we are a thing because we definitely aren’t but if we were-”

“Yes,” Len said curtly.

“Oh,” Cisco looked relieved, nervous, and guilty all at once.  “You mean it?”

“Why would I say ‘yes’ if I didn’t mean it?” Len asked, his voice sounding angry but Barry could see the amused expression in his face.

“It’s just… she’s your younger sister,” Cisco said, looking at Len with worry.

“She’s an adult,” Len pointed out.

Cisco looked at his work but opened his mouth to say something in reply when Barry saw a small movement over by the door.  

He sat up quickly, not sure quite what he was seeing.  Keeping his eyes trained forward, Barry watched the area where he saw the movement.  Carefully, Barry snapped his fingers again.  

A tiny, brown ball of fuzz froze, looking upward with a tiny black nose and sniffing in the direction of the noise.

 _“Antoinette!”_  Barry raced forward, dropping to his knees a few yards away from the rat.  He held out his hand and snapped his fingers again and the tiny rodent seemed to recognize him.  Antoinette hopped forward quickly, jumping into Barry’s palm.

There was something wet on her fur, and Barry pulled her close.  He brushed his free hand over her carefully and pulled it away.  There was a red substance on his glove, sticky and dark that he knew was blood, but Antoinette wasn’t acting like she was in pain.   _It’s not hers_ , Barry thought with relief.

He petted the top of her head with two fingers and Antoinette rubbed her nose against his thumb.  “You’re okay,” Barry said to her, not worried about the fact she couldn’t understand, “Hartley’s going to be fine too.  Good girl.”  

He hadn’t noticed the red dot moving around his chest; and Barry barely heard the gunshot.  He looked up at superspeed the moment it went off, and barely managed to dodge the bullet.

Barry rolled to the right, holding Antoinette carefully in his hands.  His powers saved his life and the bullet zoomed harmlessly past him and shattered one of the televisions on the far wall.

 _“Barry!”_ Len yelled.

Barry felt guilty, but stuffed Antoinette into the front pocket of his running jacket.  She squirmed, but obediently stayed still.  

“Whoa, look what we got,” said a low male voice near the entrance to the mall.  The door to the store crept open.  

Another voice, from behind that one, added, “Is that _Leonard Snart?_  ‘Course that son of a bitch would be alive.”

The first man was wearing a Kevlar very under a ratty jean jacket, he had pants with kneepads and large boots with spikes on the sides.  He was holding an automatic rifle in one hand, his eyes trained forward at the three men in the store.  “I love it when our practice targets split up,” the man said, grinning wide.  His teeth were broken, yellow, and gnarly and his face covered in so many bruises he didn’t look human.  Beneath one swollen eye and the other blue, the man’s eyes were bright red and angry.

“You,” Cisco clenched his cone-flashlight-strobe-bulb project to his chest, “you don’t know who you’re dealing with!”

The second man stepped into the store.  He had a sawed off shotgun with a sniper scope duct taped to it, and looked through the lens.  The second man had a long, thick and uncared for beard and his hair was wild and greasy.  His eyes were bright red too.  Unlike most people under Bivolo’s influence, these two seemed to have themselves under control and it was unsettling.  

“Sorry,” the second man said, looking like he was enjoying himself, “we just can’t have competition for the airline.”

When the first man pulled the trigger to shook, Barry raced forward.  He grabbed the bullet in his hand, and since the gun was automatic there were more.  His pulse was racing but he managed to grab all nine that came out.  Then he stopped, fingers shaking, standing in between the raiders and Len and Cisco.  Barry raised his hand and dropped all nine of the bullets onto the floor.

The two raiders backed up, looking at Barry with surprise.  “You’re one of the freaks,” the second man growled.  He grabbed the door with his free hand, opening it up.  

“I think you raiders have overstepped your welcome,” Len said slowly, walking forward with the cold gun in his hands.  “I’d tell you to _go_ but we saw what you did.  Women and children?”  Len snarled, “I’ve known professional hit men who didn’t go that far.”

Barry reached for his hood and slowly pulled it down over his face.  In his jacket pocket, Antoinette squirmed and then seemed to found a comfortable place curled up against Barry’s hip. Barry wanted to pass her off to Cisco but he wasn’t sure he had time of Antoinette would want it- the only people Antoinette ever seemed comfortable with were him and Hartley.

“I worked for you once,” the second man said to Leonard, “we both did.  Remember us?”

“No,” Len said firmly.

“You will now,” the first man raised his gun and shot again and the second man turned down the door to yell, “ _Back up_!”

Barry raced forward, hands on the sawed off shotgun and he tried to wrench it out of the man’s hands.  He had a vicelike grip on it, and though the gun moved harmlessly up in the air the other man had it.  

Cisco had dropped to the floor out of harm’s way, and Len was covering himself at one of the registers.  He sat up just enough to shoot his cold gun, but then Barry was focused on the second man.

The man pushed Barry against a wall, trying for the gun.  Barry kicked hard at his knee, and though it didn’t make much of an impact he did it again with the superspeed.  His shin connected into the man’s leg almost thirty times in two seconds and then the second man was howling in pain.

His fingers loosened on the gun and Barry pulled it harshly forward.  The shotgun flew out of both of their hands, skidding across the floor of the shop out of reach.  

Barry almost missed the man’s hand reaching out to punch him, but at the last second he twisted his body and ducked down.  On accident, Barry’s elbow collided with the man’s stomach.  The man dropped to grab his hips, an automatic response, and Barry had enough sense of mind to curl his hand into a fist and jam it up against the man’s chin.

The man grabbed his face and fell down, curling over his stomach.  Barry immediately grabbed the knife from the holster at his thigh and then… stared.

The man was down, out, but going to recover in a moment and Barry… his hands fingered the knife.  Barry could end it.  But he _couldn’t._   He saw the General's face and a stab of guilt kept him from moving.

Barry glanced over at the other man and saw… an icicle.  The first man was covered head to toe in ice, eyes frozen in place and he was holding the gun.  

Cisco slowly crawled out of his hiding space, hands on the device, and Len stepped forward with the cold gun aimed at the second man by Barry’s feet.  “Good,” Len said to Barry.  Len dropped down to his knee next to the second man and cocked his finger over the cold gun.  He pressed the end of it right under the man’s eye.

The man shuddered.  He tensed, coming back to his senses and his eyes crossed as he looked at the gun.

“Where’s the rest of your group?” Len asked sternly, frowning.  His expression was firm and angry and Barry… felt somewhat comforted by the idea Len at least knew what to do here.

The man turned his head to the side and didn’t answer.

Len grabbed the man’s wrist, turned his hand on floor and then pressed his knee into the man’s bicep.  The scream of pain that the man gave was incredible, Len must have hit a nerve or something and… Barry couldn’t believe Len knew that.  “Where,” Len snarled, “and you might live through this.”

“I don’t care,” the man on the floor spat.  He was obviously in pain but the redness in his eyes was steady.

“Wait, ask him about the airline?” Cisco said, stepping forward.  He was looking at the icicle of the man by the door, but Barry thought that Cisco looked more relieved than frightened.

“Central City airport has commercial jets,” Barry said, frowning, “and it’s miles from here.  What were the raiders doing here?”

The man laughed, barely noticing as Len pushed the gun harder into his face.   _“Pilot,”_ he snapped, eyes darting between the three men.   _“Food._  Some pretty ladies to murder, their blood is so sweet, it drips from the top of the high road with-”

“You’re crazy,” Len dismissed.  He shot the gun.

Barry flinched and looked away.

Cisco looked green, but directed his gaze away.  “Plane wouldn’t be any use to them,” Cisco mumbled under his breath, “the rest of the world has an airblock; they shoot everyone who tried to leave North and South America.”

Barry frowned.  “How could…”

Len looked similarly surprised.  He straightened up, locking his gun in his holster.  “The rest of the world isn’t like this?”

“No,” Cisco said, swallowing hard, “we saw when we had temporary Internet access that-”

There was a loud scream in the distance.  “The others,” Barry said instantly, turning to them with wide eyes.  “Come on,” Barry said, and he raced to the door to open it.  His first instinct was to go to the source of the noise but-

“Barry, you should run,” Len urged.

Barry stared at him.  “We stick together, Len,” he reminded.

“Lisa could be in danger,” Len said, looking a bit sick, "we will follow you.  Go."

Barry nodded, and then he was off running.  It took a long moment for him to locate the source of the noise, and then he was standing in the middle of a food court.

Lisa was being held down by two dirty, wild looking men with red eyes.  She was kneeling down by the two men and was facing a bearded man in gauze, while a thickly muscled, bright blue eyed man with tattoos on his arms, a pistol and a _sword_ on his waist had his hand clamped over the shoulder of the bandaged man.

James Jesse was fighting two men off in the corner, as Barry speeded past he could see the slow movements of the other man, acrobatic and sure, as he was twisting his body to punch one of the men in the balls.  He couldn’t see Mark in sight, but there was a lightning bolt moving past him toward one of the men James was fighting and Barry had a very odd moment where he saw the lightning moving forward at the same speed he was running.

Barry raced to Lisa’s side, grabbed her, and before anyone could hold her down he was up and running to the side.  The food court was covered in haphazard tables and chairs, and Barry struggled to maneuver past them holding Lisa, he stopped somewhere in the middle to help her to her feet.  

Lisa gasped, clinging to Barry’s shoulders with wide, non-unnaturally colored eyes.  Bivolo hadn't gotten to her, and Barry breathed a sigh of relief.

“Aw… _more_ of them?” The man with the sword snapped forward to attention, looking at Barry.  He pushed the bandaged man forward to the floor angrily and his hand went to a pistol at his side.  “Here I thought my little bitch Roy was special.”

It took Barry a moment to recognize the man with the bandages; Roy was holding his shoulder with one arm and bending over in pain.  The other two men besides the man with the sword angrily held up their weapons.  

“Get, _out_ of here,” Barry demanded, his vocal cords vibrating with anger and his eyes flashed with lighting.  He glared at the man with the sword, the leader of the raiders.

The man with the sword laughed and said with fierce amusement, “Ah, see, we really need the pretty lady over there.”

Lisa, hands shaking, grabbed her cold gun from her side and held it in front of her.  “ _Fuck off_!” She yelled.

“You’ll do much better as one of my crew, sweetheart,” the man with the sword said, grinning.  He looked at the two of them.  “Guess I should call the rest of my red-eyed demons over, send a message to the Boss, make this a _real_ party.”

 _How many are there?!_ Barry thought, his stomach dropping in apprehension.  He steeled his nerves for another fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hartley does some shouting in Latin:  
> 'brutum fulmen' [to Barry] meaning "harmless/insensible thunderbolt" aka "empty threat" but also a lightning reference  
> 'facile est inventis addere' [to Cisco] meaning "it is easy to add to things already invented"
> 
> Semester finally ended! So yes, summer; hopefully I will be doing even more writing (and like working an actual job) since it is fun but anyway. I wanted to just brag happily about the end of that


	26. The Raiders - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: zombies being creepy and violence

One of the two guards who had been holding Lisa screamed “Lieutenant!” at the leader with the sword and the gun.

 _What’s with unqualified people and military titles?_ Barry thought, annoyed, while he raced forward.  Barry slammed the butt of his hunting knife against the man’s forehead at near superspeed, knocking the man out cold and hopefully not doing any permanent damage, and then he grabbed Roy Bivolo’s shirt and tossed him to the side.   _Oh wait…_ Barry remembered as he dropped Bivolo in front of an H &M, _my boyfriend calls himself ‘Captain’._

While he raced at superspeed, grabbing a scarf and pair of sunglasses from the store, Barry thought, _If Lieutenant Sword n’ Gun isn’t the ‘Boss’ then where is the Boss and how many other Lieutenants do the raiders have?_ He was back at Bivolo’s side in an instant and threw the sunglasses over the man’s face and then the scarf over that.  He tied it tightly, not being able to risk letting Bivolo’s eyes show at all.   _If this Lieutenant isn’t under Bivolo’s rage, are the others not either? Is it only the foot soldiers who are mind controlled?_ Barry almost kicked himself for going along with the military-metaphor.

Leaving Bivolo where he stood, Barry turned and raced back to the food court.  He was right back to Lisa’s side when the raider he’d knocked out finally hit the floor.

“Damn,” Lisa said, eying Barry out of the corner of her eye.  

The Lieutenant slipped his sword out of his side and that was when all hell broke loose.  James Jesse let out a howl of pain as one of the raiders got in a lucky shot, and Mark Mardon stepped out from cover only to have glass beside his face shatter.   Lisa shot at the other raider, and he grabbed his head, turning, while Barry raced forward to grab the sword out of that Lieutenants hands because _fuck that_.

Barry struggled to pull it out of the Lieutenant’s hands, the raider’s muscles were bulging and Barry was… not built like that.  Feeling déjà vu, Barry had a moment of inspiration and he kicked out again just like he’d done to the raider in the hardware store.  This time, the superspeed kicks were aimed right at the raider’s groin.

The man fell slowly and the Lieutenant didn’t even get a change to yell before Barry’s fist connected with his face.  He was out cold when he hit the ground.  

Mark Mardon screamed something angry and wordless and then a heavy bolt of lightning shot through the room.  It made contact with the raider who had tried to shoot him.  The man jolted, froze, fell to the ground, steamed, turned black- it was a horrid mess of reactions.  Mark Mardon stared, shocked, at the now lifeless body.

James Jesse grabbed something in his pocket, and his two attackers were momentarily distracted.  It was enough for him to reach out and wrap his arm around the mans neck behind him, and then Jesse dropped to the floor, twisting his form, and the man’s neck snapped wickedly in place.  Lisa aimed at the other raider and shot the man’s leg with the gold gun which gave James time to move.  The raider who now had a golden leg dropped to the floor and started to moan, his fingertips hovered over the shining limb.

The four of them just stopped.

There was no other danger immediately present, the raiders were already gone, but it felt like there should be moe.   _Where were the other raiders and-_ Barry stared at the two unconscious men in front of him.  “What are we going to do with them?” He asked aloud, not expecting an answer.

He didn’t get one, just Lisa’s hand on his shoulder.  “Thank you,” Lisa said.

She had been moments away from being under whatever mind control that Lieutenant was using Bivolo for and the relief in her eyes was clear.  

A sudden movement to their left made both of them tense, ready to fight again, but it was Shawna.  She jumped to the center of the room and a moment later teleported by Mark’s side.  Mark was mumbling something Barry’s couldn’t hear and staring at his hands.  Shawna wrapped him into a hug.

James Jesse swaggered over to Lisa’s side, wiping the blood on his lip.  “So _that_ was horrible,” James Jesse said, “tell me that’s all of them.”

“It’s not,” Barry answered.  “Did you find Mick Rory?”

“Mick is gone,” Lisa said, swallowing hard.  “Bivolo?”

Barry just nodded.

* * *

Somehow Caitlin looked even more terrified after Roy Bivolo released him from her spell.  She wrapped her arms around her stomach and refused any attempts by Barry or Cisco to talk to her.  Hartley, now freed, couldn’t manage to look Barry in the eye even when Barry gave Antoinette back to him.  

There would be time to talk about what Hartley had confessed, if it ever came up, but now was certainly not a good moment for a heart to heart.  The group, all leaning or sitting haphazardly on seats in the food court, was worse for wear but no one had been seriously injured which was a near miracle.  

They tied Bivolo up to a chair in the food court though the process was a bit ridiculous considering the skill of the ten people there and the fact Bivolo had no right arm and no way to see.  Bivolo looked like he’d been through a wringer, his body was bruised and the bandages on his shoulder and chest flaked with dried blood.  

“We can do this the easy way or...” Eddie started to say.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Bivolo interrupted.

Barry was leaning against a table at Len’s side, both of them to the right of Bivolo, while Iris and Eddie stood to their prisoner’s left.  Barry crossed his arms, fingers rubbing against the sleeves of his jacket as he watched.  Mick Rory was still missing.

“Why so easily?” Eddie asked.  He stood up, walked straight to the front of Bivolo and had a stance that might have been intimidating if Bivolo wasn’t blindfolded.  “You think we should just believe what you say?”

“If you plan to be pathetic and torture me for information for no reason go ahead,” Bivolo said under his breath, his free shoulder twitching as he adjusted himself more comfortably on the seat.  “I’ve seen what people do to each other even before this madness and I’d rather not go through with it.  Everyone talks.  Why do I care to hold out?”

Eddie didn’t seem to believe him, and he was close to protesting but Len spoke up.  “Where’s Mick Rory? The raiders took one of our own.”

“Fire guy said he had a pilot’s license back when we were threatening the chick,” Bivolo said, dropping his head.  He sighed in annoyance.

“I have a _doctorate,”_ Caitlin said loudly, speaking up for the first time since she’d been released from Bivolo’s control.  Her hands clenched at her sides in annoyance while she looked at Bivolo.

“I don’t _care,”_ Bivolo scoffed.  His head gestured to the stump of the arm at his shoulder and he added, “Do I _look_ like I care?”

Caitlin hesitated, but she walked forward closer to Barry.  “Should I…” She asked, pointing to Bivolo’s shoulder, asking permission to treat his wound.

Barry knew what she was saying.  “Wait until Bivolo tells us what we need to know,” Barry decided.  “Then you can help.”

“See, Roy,” Len said to Bivolo, “we have a doctor who will help clean you up.  Which is incentive enough to tell the tru-”

“I don’t want her anywhere near me,” Bivolo growled, “ _no one_ touches my arm.”  _Or lack thereof,_ Barry thought with an uncomfortable glance to the poorly cared for stump.  It didn't make sense for Bivolo to refuse medical care in his position but then again Bivolo didn't have any reason to trust Caitlin.

“Fine, Bivolo,” Eddie said, “tell us about Heatwave.”

“Alright, I’m confused.  Are we still talking about the fire guy?”

“Yes,” Len snapped at him.

Bivolo shrugged and then winced in pain.  “Anyway.  Fire guy said he could fly a plane so they took him back to the boss.”

“Mick Rory _can’t_ fly a plane,” Lisa said with a frown.  She was sitting far away from the conversation but she sat up and spoke loudly to be heard.  “I can fly a plane, but not Mick.”

“I know,” Len said with concern on his face.  

“Not my fault if your friend there lied,” Bivolo reminded them.  Barry shifted just enough so he was leaning against Len’s side.

“So Mick’s at the airfield?” Len asked.

“Yeah,” Bivolo said.

Barry felt bad for the man; Bivolo looked more worn out than any other person he’d ever seen.  He sat in the chair, head and body hanging low like he was ready to fall out of it at any point.  

“How many more raiders are there,” Len asked him, “and how many are under your control?”

“I think there’s twenty more of us; and they’re not under my control it’s an influence.  I make people feel things but I don’t control what they do,” Bivolo explained wearily.  

“And they want the plane to fly to the other continents and get free of the zombies,” Cisco stated.  He had been standing beside Lisa but he moved up next to Caitlin to speak. “They must not know about the airblock.”

“Nah. We know about the airblock,” Bivolo dismissed.

Barry stood up, looking at Bivolo in shock.  He wasn’t exactly sure what he was feeling only… he couldn’t help remembering something the Reverse Flash had told him. Apprehension filled his stomach.  “What are you talking about? Why would you get a plane if you knew you’d be shot down?”

“We wouldn’t be shot own if we stayed low.  We have a map of these.. I don't know, islands and landmarks we could land on and approach the other continents that way.  The boss knows the details; I was just the tool they used to keep the other raiders in line and angry,” Bivolo said.

“Your group is strong enough to survive here,” Barry pointed out, “if you go to the other continents you’ll just be labeled criminals.  How would you explain how you go there?”

“That’s not the point,” Bivolo mumbled, chin falling to his chest.

“What’s the point?” Barry asked.  Bivolo didn’t answer, and Len cocked his gun, walking to Bivolo’s side.  

Len pressed the gun against Bivolo’s only hand.  “Answer him,” Len drawled.

Bivolo took a deep breath.  Expressions crossed his face, fear, anger, worry, but they were gone quickly.  He shook his head gently, as if trying to move the blindfold and then he let his muscles drop, tension falling from his body like he’d given up.  “When I got free of the prison,” Bivolo said, his voice was quiet and distance as he recalled the story, “I was sick and terrified of everything.  All my friends were gone and life was being swallowed up- there were monsters.  Dead people walking.  I didn’t know what to do.  I lasted eighteen hours.”

Barry, confused, stepped back and stared at Bivolo as he spoke.

“I figured I was done for ‘cause those zombies don’t respond to my powers at all. I was helpless.  There were six of them in a gas station I was hiding out in and I’d locked myself in the office but I knew I had to get out eventually.  I tried to make a run for it but one of the monsters caught my hand, scratching and biting it and then they… they stopped.”

Bivolo’s mouth dropped in a horrified frown, and he spoke slowly, nervous, “The zombies just stopped biting.  One of them held a weapon, she was swaying and weird like a puppet on strings and then they were cutting off my arm and I passed out from pain- I woke up in Florida.   _Florida,_ I,” Bivolo took a deep breath, his voice shaking, “and there was this _guy._  The boss of the raiders was there and he kept saying it’s some grand plan from his master.  A grand plan? I don’t- I don’t know why.  I don’t know how this Leader, the Black- he convinced these people to follow him but- but- Most of the other raiders were just like me, scared people who’d seen everyone else they loved ripped and eaten by these zombies and were spared.  But once the boss figures out what I can do, he makes me put the raiders under my rage and then…

“We made a bloody trail up here to Central City.  We’d kill all the people we came across but the zombies would leave us alone.”  Bivolo stopped talking, head hanging low.  The group took a long time to speak after that.

“Why do you want the plane?” Iris asked, breaking the silence.

“They’re going to bring zombies to the rest of the continents. Infect everything.”

“Black Hand,” Barry said, suddenly remembering the name Harrison Wells _or Eobard_ had told him.  “He knows how to control the zombies.”

“He’s isn’t content with North and South America,” Bivolo mumbled. "We didn’t want to do this.  Most of us.  It’s why they had me make everyone dumb and angry.  The Leader promised us freedom.  We were all going to be dead, the zombies were all going to kill us if we didn’t… they’re rampaging monsters.  You have no idea what it’s like to have the undead just walking by you and to stand next to them.  The boss he told me he wanted me and I think we… what could we do about the Black?”

“What are you two talking about?” Eddie said, staring between Bivolo and Barry.

“It’s something Wells said,” Barry said, frowning as he thought, “about going to find this person called the Black Hand who knew how to control the zombies.”

 _“Shit,”_ Shawna whispered.

“All of them?” Caitlin asked, fearful.  “All of the zombies belong to this _Black Hand_?”

Bivolo nodded.  “Every last one.”

“That’s why they move in formations, Lenny,” Lisa said with wide eyes, voice shaking with realization, “when we saw them at the road.  And when that huge hoard passed us that wasn’t just random, it was an _army.”_

Cisco forehead was wrinkled in thought.  “So…” he said slowly, “on _Hal Jordan Radio_ one of the survivors was talking about how they’d realized the zombie hoards will occasionally have single-zombies walking around the sides of them.  Every time they saw one zombie they’d have to switch directions fast because that meant a hoard was behind them.”

“Scouts,” James Jesse confirmed.

Eddie whistled a low note.  "Damn," he whispered under his breath.

“How the _fuck_ is this person controlling the zombies over _two continents_?” Hartley snapped, the anger and fear in his face made his words harsh, “The undead don’t respond to _Bivolo’s_ powers and they sure as hell don’t respond to any of my sound manipulations since half of them don’t even have ear canals.”

James Jesse shrugged.  “Maybe it’s magic.”

 _“Magic,”_ Hartley growled, “what kind of an idiotic, Neanderthalithic brain-dead creature are you?”

“Maybe it’s a god,” James Jesse added with a smirk.

“Everyone,” Barry interrupted, saying the word loudly.  He looked back to Bivolo.  “Do _you_ want the other raiders to infect the rest of the world?”

 _“Fuck_ no,” Bivolo said passionately.  His face collapsed, frown extending to the entirety of his face and his shoulders shook.   _“Please,_ Flash, you have no idea what this… you have no idea.  You _can’t_ let them get on that _fucking_ plane, pilot or no pilot someone will figure out how to work it.”

Lisa sighed, tension hitching up her shoulders.  “ _World domination_ ,” she whispered, “there’s actually a bastard out there trying for _world domination._ ”

Eddie clenched his hands into fists.  “You said there’s twenty of the raiders?  How many zombies with them?”

“Three,” Bivolo said.  He raised his head like he was looking up, though the blindfold kept him from seeing his head still turned toward the person speaking.  “Just enough to fit in a small plane with a pilot.”

“We have to stop them,” Barry said immediately.  He glanced around at the group, expecting a challenge. But somehow, impossibly, everyone was in agreement.  

“When are they taking off?” Len asked.

“Thursday,” Bivolo said. Barry had... no idea what day of the week it was.  “They had a specific time and date, timing is important to the schedule to keep them from being noticed.”

“Why Central City?” Barry asked, frowning, “Of all the places they could go?”

Bivolo sighed.  “What makes you think I know everything?  I only know what I overhear.  I _think_ they tried on the East Coast.  Some girl who could fly stopped it.  The Arrow dealt with some mess in Starling.  And this flying man on fire- _Hal Jordan_ from the radio… I don’t know.  It just hasn’t been successful yet or maybe it has.”  Bivolo snarled in frustration, “ _I don’t know_ , I'm just the mind-control guy.”

Leonard looked at Barry, then Iris, and finally Eddie.  “We concentrate on what we can do.  We need to save Mick and stop that plane from going off.  We’re outnumbered two-to-one but we have metahumans and they don’t.”

“We can’t let the plane take off,” Eddie agreed with a nod.

“Alright.  I think everyone needs to take a breather,” Len said.  “Eat something.  If you could check everyone out, Dr. Snow, that would be appreciated?”

Caitlin had been lost in thought, but she looked up at her name and nodded.  “Yes,” she said, _“yes,_ I can- I can do that.”

“I’ll find something to eat,” Hartley said, frowning before walking off toward one of the storage areas.  James Jesse mumbled something about being hungry and followed him.

“Caitlin,” Iris said to the other woman, and then she was beside Caitlin in a moment.  Iris guided Caitlin over by Shawna and then the two of them announced they were going to find a restroom and something to eat.  Eddie shouted out a warning to everyone that was only half heard as the majority of the group went out.

“Are you alright?” Lisa asked as she moved over to Len’s side.

Len nodded and turned to Eddie.  “What do we do with Bivolo?” He asked Eddie and Barry.

“Can I make a suggestion?” Bivolo wondered wearily.

“Can you let go of all the raiders from here,” Barry asked, “or do you have to be near them?”

Bivolo sighed wearily.  “I have to be near them," he confessed, reluctant.

Barry made a quick decision and he looked at Eddie to see if the other man would approve.  “Bivolo comes with us to help us fight the raiders.  If all goes well I can speed him and any raiders who survive to a location far away.”

“Venezuela,” Bivolo suggested.

Barry grimaced.  “We’ll see.”  He had never even tried to run that far in one sitting, and wasn’t entirely sure anyone he carried along could survive being moved at his superspeed like that, but if dangling the option in front of Bivolo made the man less likely to betray them then Barry would pretend it was an option.  

“Barry, can we talk for a second?” Len asked.

Barry looked up, having been rubbing his forehead as he thought, and saw Len at his side watching him carefully.  Len looked worried and Barry gave him a sad smile.  He reached out to brush his fingers over Len’s arm.  “Sure,” Barry said.

Len walked over toward one of the abandoned restaurants surrounding the food court and Barry followed him.  They moved past the register and around a short barrier between them and the rest of the room.  Len leaned against a stove, and Barry stood in front of him with his back to a stack of microwaves.  

“You okay?” Len asked.  He hesitated and then reached up to take Barry’s hand.  His thumb brushed along the dried blood on Barry’s knuckles from the punches, scraping just enough to reveal the already healed skin underneath.  It was still sensitive, but not enough to hurt.

“I’m good.”

Len’s eyes seemed intensely focused on the back of Barry’s hand.  “Running away to some secret location with a snow force field is starting to look more and more like a viable option for the future,” Len said slowly.  He had a look on his face though that said he was joking and wasn't serious about the idea.

Len was worried and justifiably.  Knowing that there was an actual _force_ behind the monsters was somehow more sinister than an act of nature; Barry couldn’t piece together just what it was that was so unsettling.  The idea that this person was actively trying to destroy life on this Earth?  That they’d been _succeeding_ while he’d been playing games with Captain Cold?

“I should have stopped this,” Barry said to the floor.

“How could you?” Len asked seriously.  He let go of Barry’s hand to hold Barry’s neck and raised Barry’s face up to his own.

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly.  You don’t know, so how _could_ you have stopped it?” Len looked in Barry’s eyes with a stern expression.  “Some things we can’t end and we just have to endure, and this? Stopping that plane?   _That_ is within your power.”

“I don’t need motivational speeches from you, Len,” Barry said sourly.

Len nodded, brushing his fingers against Barry’s cheeks.  “It’s human to feel guilty, just don’t dwell on it.”

“Well maybe I…” Barry frowned.  “Maybe I deserve it.  Look at everything that’s happened.”

“All of the world’s problems are not yours to fix,” Len said with indignation.  There was something angry in his eyes when he continued, “You aren’t responsible for anyone else.”

Barry pulled Len’s hands away from his face.  “Really?” Barry asked, annoyed.  “Just like Lisa isn’t your responsibility?”

Len stared at Barry with hardly a change in expression.  Then he dipped his head and acknowledged, “That’s fair.”

Barry sighed, and then he stepped forward and slid his hands underneath Len’s parka.  He pulled the other man against him, head resting on Len’s shoulder, and then Len’s arms were around his back and holding him tight.  Len turned his head, his nose pressing against Barry’s ear and lips on Barry’s jawline.

“If we find the other superheroes then _maybe_ we try for this Black Hand bastard,” Len mumbled.

“Maybe,” Barry agreed, saying the word like _‘yes’._

“I’ll also accept you keeping Lisa as priority,” Len said in monotone.

Barry couldn’t help a grin.  “Oh, really?  I’m only responsible for myself or Lisa?”

Len pulled away, just enough to look Barry in the eye.  “Of course.”  He pressed his lips against Barry’s cheek softly.  “Just stay safe,” Len said quietly, “I need both of you.”

“We _will_ be safe,” Barry promised, though he didn't quite believe it, “we’re not pushovers, you know.”

“I know,” Len said.  He brushed his thumb along Barry’s bottom lip.  “I’m going to find you something to eat.”

“Nope.”  Barry decided, though his stomach was rumbling.  He grabbed Len’s parka and pulled the man back in for a kiss.  Len hesitated, but then was wrapping his hands around Barry and holding him tight enough that they almost felt like they were really alone.  “Maybe we shouldn’t stay here,” Barry thought aloud.  He frowned as he looked at Lean, trying to read the other man’s hard expression.  “In Central City.  There are too many resources, it’s too open.”

“We have to leave,” Len said.  He grimaced at the thought.  “If this Black Hand sees us, he’ll send more people after us.  We can’t-”

“I _really_ liked the fucking house,” Barry said.  The idea was miserable, a pit deep in his stomach that he wished he hadn’t brought up.  And it was so obvious but so terrible- they _couldn’t_ stay in Central City.  They had to keep being on the run, they had to keep moving, the journey hadn’t ended when they’d reached home it had just been a pause.

From somewhere behind the barrier, Barry could hear Cisco talking loudly about the expiration date on vending machine snacks and Barry remembered the… the stupid blue cloth from the store.  The one that he’d wanted to go back for because he’d for some reason Barry had ‘ _blue curtains_ ’ stuck in his head.  It was dumb, stupid, whining- idiotically normal idea.  This was the _apocalypse,_ it wasn't time to be thinking about what curtains he wanted in a bedroom he couldn't keep.

This wasn’t _fair._  Barry felt sick.  

He _wanted_ that house.  He wanted everyone to be safe, to live next to each other, to have their own privacy but breakfast with his friends- and fuck he wanted his and Len’s things lying around in a mess together, and their own bed, and a bathroom-

Barry pulled his hands away from Len to rub his forehead, but Len grabbed his wrists and stopped him.  “I liked the house too,” Len said seriously.  He was staring at Len with that intense gaze; the eyes that Barry knew just saw _everything._  Len was always looking at Barry like Barry was something unbelievable.

They were partners, friends, lovers, mixes of both and yet the thing that had brought them together was the need to survive.  Barry _hated_ the feeling of danger dogging their lives.  Every instant of their life was spent moving from one tragedy to another, solving one problem only to come up with ten more, and Barry- “It’s overwhelming,” Barry said.  He stepped forward enough to he could drop his hands against his knuckles, pulling Len’s hands up with him.  “Every moment of every day.  And I can’t run fast enough to slow it down.  I used to be able to take of a mask and it would be okay but now it... I can't."

“You have to take things one at a time,” Len said, concern in his voice.  Len was obviously just grasping for advice, unsure what to say.  “Let me help you.”

“I don’t know what you can _do,”_ Barry said angrily, “because I don’t know what I can do.  Is it too much to want a stupid fucking house?! To want storage for supplies and- and a place we can fortify and a closet and fuck- crap I don’t know.   _Legroom._  That RV is such… fuck it’s nice but it’s so… _damn_ it.”  Barry felt his eyes getting hot and he tried to shake his hands away from Len to wipe at them.  

Len moved forward instead, fingers brushing under Barry’s eyes.  And even though tears didn’t end up coming, Len softly traced Barry’s face as if they were.  “I…” Len started to say but he hesitated.  After thinking for a moment, Len continued, “I’ve been living a life on the run since I was seventeen, Barry, I don’t know what you’re feeling. I don’t miss a house and that security so…”  He sighed, his face pained.  “I’m sorry.”

Barry hated himself in that moment because now that the idea of having a home again was gone, and the RV was back, but all he could think of were the nights he and Len could have been together, of waking up and having breakfast with Iris and Len and Cisco and Caitlin and Hartley and… of his friends coming together and trying to make it work with a party of all things.  “Of course we wouldn’t get to keep this,” Barry mumbled.

“It’s okay,” Len tried.  He brushed Barry’s windblown hair off of his forehead.  

“It’s not.  It’s not fair.  Because…” Barry sighed and gestured into the air at nothing.  “I mean _look_ at this, you can say this apocalypse isn’t my fault but saving all these people obviously _is_.  We have one chance to be preemptive and stop disaster but we missed a _thousand_ other chances.  I’m strong enough to _save people_ , and if I could be there when people needed me then so many people would be alive but I’m _not_ and I _wasn't_.  I’m strong enough but I’m not _there._  So the people on the High Line are dead, my dad and Joe are probably dead, my _mom_ is dead, and the entire _city_ is _dead!”_

“So we can’t fuck up the one chance we have to help,” Len said, looking at Barry intensely.

Barry drew in a shaking breath.  “I want a _fucking_ house, Len.”

Len’s eyes widened and he gripped Barry’s hands tighter in his own.  “I want you to stay alive.  I can’t… we can’t do that.”

Barry sighed, dropped his head on their hands again, and mumbled, “I _just_ want a house.”

“I will get you one,” Len said.  His voice was almost grandiose.  “ _Every single_ thing you want.  It will just take awhile.”

Barry almost laughed if he wasn’t so miserable.  “How?”

“If you can run through time I’m sure we can figure out getting a house that the undead can’t find,” Len said.

Barry sighed, leaning against Len's touch and closing his eyes.  “Maybe I should run us far back in time, long before any of this ever happened,” Barry wondered aloud.

Len lifted his hands and brushed them through Barry’s hair.  “Keep dreaming, kid.”

“It _could_ work,” Barry defended, because talking about this was better than dwelling on what Barry was sure he’d lost.

“Doesn’t the timeline ‘replace’ a course of events with an equally destructive course of events? You could end up hurting yourself or others worse.” Len reminded him, “That’s what you told me.”

“Kind of spoiling the change of subject here,” Barry pointed out.

“Oh,” Len stared.  “I didn’t-”

Barry reached for Len’s hand in his own and held it tightly.  “Let’s get something to eat.”

* * *

A stealthy approach was never an option.  The large collection of figures, Barry counted twenty-two, stood in the exact center of the airway.  The wide, flat space around them continued for almost a mile in every direction except the sea, which was just as terrible a cover.  This airline had been a bustle of activity, thousands and thousands of people came through every day to Central City itself or to connect a flight to one of the other Gem Cities.  Central had its name for a reason, it was the connection between the rest of the airports in the U.S.  

And now, just like the airport was dead just like the city.  There was a large, semicircle building whose modern architecture design just made it seem shapeless.  The walls and sharp corners, the way the side of the airport looked like waves, just cast long and ominous shadows across the airfield.

Curiously there were hardly any planes.  There were four, one was still set up to load passengers and the other two were opened and half-dismantled waiting for engineers.  Abandoned.  The only other plane was straight in the middle of the airfield where the raiders were waiting for them.

It was a private jet, small and compact, the kind that fit maybe ten people at the most including two pilots.  Obviously a larger plane wouldn’t be able to go unnoticed, despite the map the raiders had to follow.  It was either incredibly lucky that there was one small plane left when all the others were gone or- this ‘Black Hand’ had used his zombies to scout out the area.  

This was in no way ideal.  The group walked onward, all painfully aware that they were obvious targets for the raiders in front of them, but they had a good chance of getting out of this.  They had Bivolo, even though Hartley and James were guarding the man intensely, and Bivolo could release the raiders under his control.  In that chaos, they could kill of the zombies and dismantle the plane-

 _Or,_ and Barry nearly stopped.  He stumbled, and Len and Lisa both reached out for him.  Len took his hand and Lisa patted Barry’s shoulder, and they kept walking, Barry in between the two.  

The raiders had three long boxes by the plane which Barry could see as they drew closer.  The door into the plane was open, and four of the raiders had been carrying one of those boxes to bring in but they stopped and set it down.  The group of the twenty-two people was over twice their number of fighters; the raiders hard to see as the light was turning dusk but they all looked strong, well built, and were carrying some sorts of weapons.

The only defense they had was the sun fading behind them and the fact they were approaching with the sun at their backs, so any of the raiders looking at them would struggle to see clearly.  Eddie suggested that one.

 _Or,_ Barry thought again, the unpleasant thought he’d had before resurfacing the more he looked at the plane, _we don’t destroy the plane._  

The plane had a dark blue logo on its side with red lettering saying ‘ _Swift Air_ ’ and it was perfect.

 _Or we take the plane.  And the map.  All eleven of us squeeze into it and we get the hell out of here and go find a fucking castle in Scotland or some huge farmhouse in Germany and get jobs,_ Barry thought.

He could almost see it.  The fantasy was so clear that he reached out to grab Len’s left hand beside him, holding him tightly in his own.  Len, holding his gun, didn’t protest but kept his eyes focused on the raiders in front of them.  The enemies were bracing up, standing in a formation and two of them were walking in front of the others.

London.  The _Flash_ showing up to save the day again with Cisco and Caitlin in his ear giving him advice and tech, Captain Cold, Golden Glider, Heatwave, Weather Wizard, Peakaboo… a _team,_ heroes working together just the way they could have.  Fresh bagels in the morning.  Newspapers.  Iris and Eddie having a wedding and all of them… every last one of them safe, sound- Barry could see it all. Television in the morning, blueberry pancakes on a stove, Len crawling up beside him and flicking off the electric light.  Len and him sitting at an actual restaurant, watching a _movie,_ having a _safe_ place.  A house.  A home.  It wouldn’t be Central City but it would be their new home and they would make it work.  Barry had always wanted to go to London, he was a homebody and never liked to leave Central City but that was because visiting hours with his father at the prison-

His father.  And Joe.   _“Fuck,”_ Barry mumbled under his breath.  They couldn’t do that, they couldn’t leave not with his father and Joe and- not if this necromancer named Black Hand was going to keep threatening the rest of the world.  They had to stop the Black Hand or Barry was never going to be able to have a moment of peace.

Len squeezed his hand once and then let go.  

The raiders were close now, enough Barry could see them moving and make out the bandages and bloody features of all of them.  One of the man stood forward in the front, he was bald with a face of tattoos and a cut open lip that showed his teeth even when his mouth was closed.  It was unsettling, but then again Barry had seen plenty of unsettling things and he glared at the man without flinching.

The three long boxes turned out to be wooden coffins.  One of them was shaking a bit as something inside it moved.

“We was expecting our backup to come by with mor’ food,” the man with the cut lip snarled.  His eyes flickered, amused, over Lisa with her gold gun, Iris and her hatchet and pistol, Shawna with her gun standing at Mark's side, and Caitlin with the large, automatic rifle.  “Huh,” the man with the cut lip turned his eyes to Iris specifically and looked her down from head to toe, “we don’ come across many groups with _those.”_  Iris’s hands tightened on her hatchet, and Eddie took another step next to her.

“Nice plane you’ve got,” Len said, voice low, calm and rumbling.

The man with the cut lip didn’t want to be deferred from his train of thought.  Another man beside him was reacting to it, grinning and licking his lips while he looked at Caitlin, Iris, Shawna, and Lisa in rapid succession.  The rest of the raiders though, they held makeshift weapons and the occasional gun with blank expressions.  In the fading light it was impossible to see if their eyes were red but Barry was sure they would be.

“Y’all got a good number of ‘em, you each take the ladies out? Look at ‘em,” the man with the cut lip gave Iris another predatory glare, “bet they like it.”  Iris raised her chin and met the man’s eyes with defiance.

“You-” Eddie snapped, taking a short step forward.

“What’s in the coffins?” Len interrupted.

“I’d offer a trade,” the man with the cut lip chuckled, “three zombs for three ladies but I got orders.  Orders come from the leader hisself.”

Iris clenched her jaw.  “The _Black Hand_ ,” she said.

The man with the cut lip didn’t seem to like that, he scowled at Iris and his eyes went to Shawna.  “’ow’d such pretty ladies end up with such a stupid group of fellas?”

“Tell us about this leader,” Len said.  

“Tell me _who_ _you_ are,” the man with the cut lip said angrily.  His eyes went to Len like he immediately identified Len as his biggest threat.  “An’ where’s my men?”

“Some dead.  Most injured,” Len answered.  “I’m a tough son of a bitch and these are the Rogues.  You took our friend, attacked us, and killed our neighbors and I’m looking for some good old fashioned revenge unless I can be persuaded otherwise.”

The man with the cut lip glanced once over at the plane before turning back to Len.  “You know,” he said, pursing his lips and his tongue swept over the space on his teeth between the torn flesh, “I can be bargained with.  I like brunettes.”

“So do I,” Len said sardonically, “but it’s not exactly relevant at the moment.  Get your head out of your dick and look at who I have here.”

“Bivolo,” the second, non-influenced raider identified.  This was a shorter man, with a heavy potbelly but features that were worn and sallow.  “You brought Bivolo in exchange for your man?”

Barry really hoped Len knew what he was doing.  He trusted Len, of course, and knew from any of their exchanges before the apocalypse that Len had always been a master manipulator, convincing Barry that Barry was the one who was in charge when Len was still getting everything he wanted.  

“Your man’s a pilot,” the man with the cut lip said to Len.

“We have Bivolo and three other metahumans,” Len told him.  He made a gesture to his side, a flick of his wrist and fingers, and then Mark Mardon was stepping forward.  Mark held out his hand, and over the palm of his fingers air began to swirl until there was a miniature tornado right in front of him.  “You want to fight that?”

“What’re you here for?” The second raider asked, nervous.

“We’re giving you a five minute warning to run out of here,” Len replied calmly.  “Starting immediately.  So fuck off and get out of here.”

“We can’t,” the second raider said, and he actually looked apologetic.  “You haven’t seen what the Black Hand can do.”

“Then I’m done talking,” Len dismissed.

Eddie nodded.  “Bivolo,” Eddie said, and he looked behind them before Barry could shout a warning.  Eddie and Bivolo glanced at each other, eyes connecting- but Bivolo didn’t do anything but nod.  

The next few seconds hung in the air, eerily silent and short, a long pause right before a thunderclap or a sickening silence after a scream.  And then one of the raiders, one of the ones formerly not speaking, dropped to the floor and grabbed his head.  “Those people…” the raider whispered.

And then all twenty of those men were coming to life, some falling and some gasping, shocked, and then the moment broke when one of the raiders swung harsh with his barbed wire bat and connected into the face of another raider.  It was chaotic immediately after.  The man with the cut lip raised his weapon and suddenly a stream of fire shot out of it.

Barry moved forward in a flash, pushing all members of the group out of the way of the flame.  The man with the cut lip had _Mick Rory’s gun_ , Barry realized.  He raced forward, getting as close to that man as he dared, enough to nick the raider boss’s wrist with his hunting knife.  And then the fire was getting too close and Barry jumped out of the way.

He’d accomplished what he wanted, the man with the cut lip was staring at Barry with anger and obviously focused on Barry and not the others.  

Barry raced to the side, stopping every few minutes.  He needed to draw this man’s attention so the others could concentrate on the fighting raiders.  Briefly, he could see the group trying to diffuse the situation, mostly unsuccessful, aiming their weapons while trying to protect themselves as the raiders acted unpredictably.  At least the majority of those men were fighting each other, not Barry’s friends, and the ones who weren’t were collapsed on the ground in horror- Barry couldn’t imagine what they would be going through.

And it wasn’t the time to dwell on it.  Barry dodged another blast from the gun, twisting himself and holding his knife carefully.  He needed to get the gun out of the man’s hands, but twice today he’d struggled with other man for a weapon and neither time Barry’d been strong enough to pull it out of the other men’s grasp.  

 _Superspeed punch,_ Barry thought, thinking the words in Cisco’s voice.  He needed to run somewhere, needed to get enough leverage that he could swing down and hit the man in the face with the full force of his superspeed velocity.

A punch could knock this man out, and that was what Barry needed to do.  The closest object for leverage was one of the coffins and Barry jumped onto it, twisting his body and readying his fist.

His foot fell through the wood.  Barry’s knee hit the side of the coffin, the fall so powerful it tore through the material of the Flash suit.  He gasped from the unexpected drop, a sick feeling in his stomach.

Shock made him hesitate, but then he was pulling his legs out.  Moving rapidly, trying to get free and- and there was a hand on his ankle.  

There was a zombie in the coffin.  Barry could hear a growl from underneath him, a low, horrible gurgle of pure spite.  Barry jolted.

He vibrated his leg, moved as fast as he could, and stumbled out of the coffin in a rolling motion.  Barry fell to the floor of the airfield, rolling on the ground from the force and he gasped.

His hands immediately went to his costume, feeling along the ankle.  There was no tear in the material.  He wasn’t even scratched.  Barry breathed a deep sigh of relief before he saw fire out of the corner of his eye and he raced away.

He ended up running past the entrance to the plane and he saw Mick Rory walking out of it, fury in Mick’s eyes and a heavy metal pole in his hands.   There was another zombie at his side, and then as Barry raced past the last coffin he saw the second raider, the man with the pot-belly, holding a key and throwing the wooden door open.  A decayed hand reached out into the open air.  

Barry stopped, gasping, enough to grab the second raider and throw him down to the floor.  “What are you _doing?!”_ Barry screamed at him.

“The Black will know!” The man looked at Barry but he was yelling at all the other raiders.  He scrambled on the floor, panic in his eyes.  “The undead can see you! The Black will know if you betray him!”

Then a metal pole was colliding with that man’s face, and Barry watched Mick Rory drop to his knees and grab the man’s head. _“Fuck you!”_ Mick Rory growled, and he slammed the man’s head into the floor before standing up and grabbing his pole with a look at the zombie crawling out of the coffin.  “I got it!” He shouted to Barry.

The raiders, the ones who’d been collapsed in horror and fear, glanced up at the man’s words and then one of them was standing reluctantly to his feet.  He moved to join the other raiders, the angry ones attacking each other and Barry could see a moment of recognition shifting in their eyes.  The raiders turned, the ones that could still move, looking at everyone else standing.

They had to get the zombies to stop the raiders from fighting.

It wasn’t hard to kill the undead; Barry dodged a blast from the fire gun and ran toward the zombie that had grabbed his ankle.  He grabbed his knife and stabbed quickly, straight into the back of the zombie’s head as it was trying to free itself from the coffin.

Then the heat gun.  The man with the cut lip was looking at the main group, his gun raised to aim at Hartley.  

Barry was forward in a flash and he jumped in the air, trusting his own momentum.  His fist collided heavily with the man’s face and Barry could feel a cheekbone snapping under his knuckles.

The man with the cut lip dropped to the floor, a low moan slipping past his lips.  The heat gun fell out of his hands and Barry grabbed it immediately, clutching it to his chest.  

“Barry!” Hartley yelled, worry on his face.  He was holding out his hands with the sonic weapons, the hood low over his face, but he ran over to Barry’s side.  “We need to tell the raiders to sto-”  They had only one more zombie to deal with, then they could free the raiders and find the map and-

Barry heard a cry of pain.  He knew right away that it was Len.

Barry turned, his every twitch and motion a blur.

Len was aiming the cold gun by his wrist, straight against the skull of the last zombie.  The monster’s head was frozen solid in an instant.  The undead body fell to the floor, cracking in many places as a form of ice.  It lay on the group, lifeless and dead, a frozen sculpture of dried blood but there was something fresh and red over its decaying mouth.

Len raised his left hand carefully.  It was bleeding, hot and heavy blood falling to the floor with thick drops.  Len looked at it, no expression crossing his face, impassive studying of the open wound on his body.  

Barry stared at him and slowly Len raised his eyes to meet his.  Len had been bitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's TWD & TWDG tradition for this cliffhanger. And this chapter was far too long already, my longest one but I had to finish the arc. The next update will be up soon, I am sorry.


	27. This is Going to Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: gore
> 
> The title is a reference to the Walking Dead Game (Telltale series) achievement of the same name, from a similar scenario

The world didn’t stop and nothing was quiet. Barry could hear all the sounds of fighting just as he had a moment before.  Blood didn’t pool in his head to make his ears pound and he had no physical reactions to what he was seeing besides staring at Len.

Mark Mardon was in the air as wind swirled underneath him and Shawna screamed with rage at the surviving raiders.  There was a man with a gold ear running aimlessly in between them, but the team was standing mostly still, holding their weapons, encircled around the raiders who were left.  All the smart raiders raised their hands in defeat, cowed by the display of Mark’s metahuman abilities, the ones who didn’t met with a bit of force but nothing lethal and they soon followed the others.

So it was fine.  The battle dissipated like a slow breath of relief, along with the night getting darker around them, but all Barry could do was stare at Len.

Len had tossed his cold gun into its holster, his free hand holding his bleeding, open left hand.  The blood dripped from it heavily, near constantly falling on the airfield.  Keeping his hands tight together to stop the bleeding as best as he could, Len took a step forward with a grimace.

He was walking toward Barry.  So Barry raced forward in a flash and then was standing right in front of him.  He looked at Len’s eyes, the man’s face growing pale from pain, and couldn’t manage to say anything.

Barry wasn’t even _thinking_ anything.  His mind was blank.

They’d heard stories about this on the radio but had never seen it themselves.  When people get bit by the zombies it takes them ten hours to turn, specifically, on the clock every time, whether or not the bite was lethal.  There was something in the bite of the monsters that could infect living humans and turn them into a mindless, raging creature just like the rest of the faceless masses in the hoards.  

“Barry,” Len said slowly, looking Barry carefully in the eye.  He knelt down and winced as he did, but then his right hand let go of his left and his bloody, unhurt hand clasped Barry’s in his own.  “I’m going to be fine,” Len promised, looking up at Barry, “Don’t run.”  

The solution came to his mind immediately and Barry felt the worry dropping from his shoulders.  A smile of relief came to him and he let out a breath he’d been holding in.  “I’ll go back in time,” Barry realized.  He brushed his fingertips over the dark, buzzed hairs on Len’s head.  “You’ll be okay.  I’ll fix it next time around I’ll-”

“I just said _not_ to do that,” Len told him forcefully.  His left hand was lying, limp, at his side.  

“No, listen, Len-”

“You told me the timeline replaces one disaster with something _worse,”_ Len said, resigned, face stiff with pain, “so if you go back someone else gets hurt.  What if it’s you? You can’t run back in time to stop yourself from being hurt so _please,_ for me, Barry, don’t.”

Barry ripped his hand out of Len’s grasp and stared at him in shock.   _“No!”_ Barry yelled.

“Barry,” Len pleaded, still on his knees.

“What happened?” Lisa asked, running forward.  Barry noticed out of the corner of his eye that the others were trying to deal with the raiders, Eddie was speaking to them, but Mick and Hartley were standing beside this scene and… what was ‘this’? Len kneeling on the airfield in pain with his hand bleeding out onto the ground and…

“I was bit, sis,” Len said, and he slowly pulled his eyes away from Barry to look at his sister.

Lisa flinched.  “You-”

“It’s fine.  Bivolo is alive.  And there was a woman from Quebec on the radio who made it out too,” Len reminded.

Lisa was took in a deep breath and stared at her brother with wide eyes.  She stepped hesitantly closer to him, and then pulled on his parka to help him stand.  Len went to his feet slowly and put his arm around her.

Barry wasn’t sure what he was doing.  What he should do.  He ran to Len’s other side, wrapped one hand around Len’s waist and walked with them.  He tried not to lean against Len’s arm.  The bloody, bitten left hand rested between them and Barry couldn’t stand to look at it.  

“What do you mean?” Lisa asked, and Barry was so grateful. Barry wasn’t sure what he could say.

They carried Len over to the steps of the airplane and set him down.  Mick was hovering nearby, watching Len with clear attention.  

Barry glanced back at the others for just a moment. They were occupied with the rest of the raiders.  He caught Hartley’s gaze.  Barry glared at him and Hartley’s eyes widened and then he turned away.  

Barry knew, from the pit of anger in his stomach at the sight of Hartley, that he didn’t want anything to do with the piper right now.  Hartley had been beside Barry when Len had been bit and… it was stupid to think Hartley would have distracted Barry on purpose, and he didn't, but Barry knew Hartley would probably be a little bit happy to find out Len was gone.  Considering what Hartley had said.  About how the genius felt about Barry.

It wasn’t fair to be… angry about Hartley’s feelings.

Barry was.

Barry sat down on the plane steps beside Len, his body pressed against the side without the injured hand.  He dropped his head against Len’s shoulder and tried to breathe.

The facts; Len was bit by a zombie but Len also said he knew how to stop from turning.  Barry could trust him.

“If you turn I’m running back in time,” Barry said, determined.  Len was warm against him, and Barry reached his hands under Len’s parka just to brush his fingers closer to his skin.  

“Agreed,” Len said without protest.  Barry lifted his head just enough to look at Len with confusion on his face.  Len gave Barry a short smirk.  “I don’t plan on dying anytime soon,” Len reminded him.

“You’d better not,” Lisa said, standing in front of the two of them with their arms crossed.  “Lenny, what is your plan?”

Len grimaced again, shifting his weight. He swung his arm forward, moving it with his shoulder with his elbow bent at ninety degrees, and rested it on his lap in front of him.  Len’s left hand twitched just a bit, and he hissed painfully between his teeth.  “We’ve got to cut it off,” he said as he looked at his hand.

Mick Rory winced as he was moving to stand beside Lisa.  He tugged on the collar of his shirt nervously.  “Sure we can’t do anything else, buddy?”

“What do you mean _cut it off?”_ Barry repeated.  His worldview felt like it was narrowing, he couldn’t manage to see anything around him, the only thing in his mind was Len’s face, painful sweat beading on the man’s forehead.

“Cut… your hand?” Lisa asked, her words growing higher pitched with worry.  “Are you _serious?”_

“We have to do it soon,” Len confirmed.  He grabbed the wrist of his left hand with his right, holding it tightly.  “It takes nine hours and forty-seven minutes for the infection to reach the brain, according to the radio.  I was bit two minutes and thirty-one seconds ago.  If we chop it off before the fifteen minute mark I can pretty confidently say we only have to cut it to the wrist, unlike Bivolo.”

Barry’s mind flashed back to the image of Bivolo, with his entire arm cut off at the shoulder, and he shuddered.   _“Len,”_ Barry said, fear in his voice making it sound weak.

This was horrible.  Len was in pain, talking about being forced to mutilate himself and despite his abilities Barry couldn't do anything but watch.

“What do you need us to get?” Mick asked, gruffly.

Len took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  His body shifted, just the smallest motion, to move closer to Barry’s side.  “Tourniquet.  West’s hatchet.  My gun.  We need to do this quickly.”

“I’ll get it,” Mick Rory said, putting a hand on Lisa’s shoulder when she tried to move to get it herself.  Lisa’s face was stone, no expression on it, and she gave Mick a short nod.

“Thank you, Mick,” Len said, opening his eyes to look at his friend.  

Mick’s expression softened just a bit.  “Back in a moment, buddy,” he said, voice grave and rumbling.  Mick turned sharply, moving toward the main group as they were speaking to the raiders.  Whatever was the plan to deal with all those men, Barry trusted Eddie to figure it out.  

Lisa sat down on Len’s other side, letting out a sigh as she rested her legs down on the steps.  She stared at her feet.  “You’re such a bastard, Len,” Lisa told him.

“And why’s that?” Len asked.  Lisa shook her head and didn't answer.

Barry moved closer to Len’s side, could feel Len leaning against him.  He wrapped his arm around Len’s waist, holding the man tightly.  Barry was so close he could feel Len’s breathing against him.  Short.  Tight.  Shallow.

“Deep breaths,” Barry said, looking at Len carefully.  He raised his hand to press it flush on Len’s chest.  “It’ll hurt less.”

Len hesitated a moment and then complied.  He closed his eyes again, letting Barry push against his chest to make him breathe deeper.  It was slow and ragged, the air left Len’s lungs in a painful hiss.

“Because you have to be the one always getting yourself hurt.  For someone who insists everyone protect themselves you do a shit job taking care of you,” Lisa finally told him.  She was… _relentlessly_ calm.  Her eyes stared at Len’s face, boring holes in his expression and she acted like they were having any other conversation.  As if this conversation was about poker, or who was going to drive the RV, and not… this.

The possibility that Len could turn into a walker... those calm, intelligent eyes would turn mindless and angry.  The _certainty_ that Len was in pain now and would be in far worse in just a moment.

Barry’s shoulders started to shake and he knew he was crying, he could feel his face crumpling up and he didn’t have any control over it.   _Not now,_ Barry tried to tell himself.

Len looked at his right hand, curled over the wrist of his left, and he slowly peeled the fingers off.  Grimacing, Len shifted, and then he raised his right hand to his chest to clasp over Barry’s.  “It’s alright, Scarlet.  I’m going to be fine.”

They needed Shawna or Caitlin.  They had the medical experience.  But Barry couldn’t imagine leaving Len’s side and he didn’t think Lisa wanted to either, even with the stone cold, unseeing expression on her face.  

“I don’t want you to do this,” Barry said.  He had to reach up with his other hand to wipe the tears away with his sleeve, they were coming hard and fast, his eyes felt like they were boiling.  Barry didn’t want to be crying, not when he should be helping Len, be _beside_ him, and neither Len and Lisa were but- Len could _die,_ and Len was hurt and what the fuck could Barry do about it? All these powers and yet he was helpless.

Not for the first time, Barry wished he’d been given a power to heal other people instead of his speed.

“I don’t want to do this either,” Len said, chuckling.  “Yet here we are.”

“Shit,” Barry mumbled, rubbing at his eyes again.  

“It’s okay,” Len said.  He moved his right hand, the angle awkward, and the back of his hand brushed against Barry’s cheek.  “This is the right call, Barry.  I’ll be fine.”

“This is going to hurt,” Lisa reminded him.

Len rolled his eyes, and Barry almost laughed, but it caught in his throat as a sob.  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Len said, to Lisa and then to Barry, “we just make it through the next eleven minutes.”

Lisa took in a deep breath, her voice obviously shaking, and she reached out to grip Len’s shoulder tightly.  “It’s always you getting hurt,” Lisa said softly, "it was always you." 

“Let’s not start,” Len pleaded with her.  His grimace turned into a deep frown.  Len swallowed, looking at his bitten left hand with dread.

Mick was back with Shawna and Mark, he handed a long, ripped piece of cloth to Shawna beside him.  

“So you…” Shawna stared at the group with wide eyes.   _“Fuck,_ right?”

“That’s the tourniquet?” Len asked.  

A shudder went down Barry’s back as he looked at it.

“Yeah,” Shawna said, nervous.  She took a breath and then knelt down on the plane steps with a determined look on her face.  “Take the coat off your left hand; roll up your shirt sleeve.”

Lisa helped Len out of it, Len wincing as they did; they pulled Len’s arm and shoulder out of the parka.  Lisa rolled the sleeve of Len’s thermal shirt up to his elbow.  Shawna wrapped the ripped cloth tightly, twisting it into a circle, and then she put it over Len’s arm.  She tied it tightly.  

“Barry, can you get my gun for me?” Len asked, looking at him.  

Their eyes met for a moment.  Barry moved upward for a moment, his movements fast enough to be a blur, and kissed Len’s mouth hard.  Passionate, fearful, as if his lips could give Len the assurance Barry couldn't voice.  He pulled away almost instantly but Len reached out, the back of his hand on Barry’s face because he couldn’t bent his right arm for a good angle, not with Barry on the right side of his body.  “Yeah,” Barry said.  He pushed the side of Len’s coat, grabbed the gun from the holster and pulled it out with a shaking motion.  “Do you…”

Len dropped his hand, holding out his palm, and Barry put the gun in it.  “Hatchet?” Len asked, looking at Mick.

 _“Fuck!”_ Barry yelled, and he grabbed Len’s arm and buried his head against his shoulder.  Barry tried to make himself stop crying, he _knew_ they had to just… get through this.   _Ten minutes._ It was impossible, the sight of Len just anticipating the pain, stone-faced and resigned and Barry’s heart ached for him.

He could feel Len’s lips against his forehead.  “Barry,” Len breathed the words soft enough that only Barry could hear, “I love you.  Don’t worry.”

“I love you,” Barry mumbled into Len’s arm.  

“What’s going on?” Eddie’s voice, loud and confused.

Barry, trying to control his hands trembling, turned his head away from the voice to wipe his eyes on his sleeve.  He managed to breathe deep, stopping the flow of tears.  He knew his eyes would be red, his face still tired and crumbling, but it was a little better.  Barry could be strong, he could handle it, he just wasn’t able to do it emotionlessly the way Len and Lisa did. The siblings put on closed off masks of feelings like an old habit.  

“We need your hatchet, Iris,” Lisa said firmly.

 _Iris._  Barry looked up and searched for her.  Eddie was next to Mick, his forehead wrinkled with confusion as he looked at the group.  Mark Mardon was standing, off to the side of the stairs, looking at them with worry.  And Iris… she was stepping forward, behind Eddie, moving around to come to Barry’s side.  Iris reached out for him and Barry grabbed for her hand on instinct.  She squeezed his hand tightly, worry on her face.  “Len’s bitten,” Barry told her, his voice feeling loud and weak in his ears.

Iris’s face dropped with understanding.  She gave a shaky sigh.  “The… why do you need the…”

Mick held his palm out in front of Iris, waiting for the weapon.  “Works better than a knife,” he said gruffly.

“We have to cut it off.  Seven minutes,” Len said with warning as he looked from Mick to Shawna. 

 _"Damn,"_ Iris cursed with feeling. She pulled her hatchet off, the velcro on her belt ripping open, and set the heavy weapon in Mick's hand.  Barry tried not to look at it.

Cisco's voice called out from where the raiders were. "Is there a reason everyone's over there?"

Eddie turned around walking back to the others. "I'll explain later," he was saying as he walked away, "let's try and get this organized. We need to figure this out."

Iris stayed at Barry's side, Barry was grateful.  The sight of her, familiar brown eyes watching him and the feeling of her hand in his gave him some comfort.  Barry hoped that it... was the same for Len, that having Lisa, Mick, and Barry around made this easier for him.

"We don't have much time," Len reminded them all.

"What are we doing here, buddy?" Mick asked. He was holding the hatchet with two hands, knuckles white on the wooden handle.

Len laid the cold gun in his lap and pressed something on the side of the machinery, then he was turning something near the top. A light blue bar was growing shorter and shorter until only the barest bit remained. "Temperature control," Len said, looking at Barry.

"Breathe," Barry reminded him as he had trouble with that himself.  His lungs didn’t seem to hold any air.  He slipped his hand out of Iris’ to hold Len’s neck gently.

"Can't do anything worse than I already have," Len said through clenched teeth. He raised the gun and pressed the end against the palm of his bleeding, left hand.  Len took a deep breath, like Barry had told him to.

"I'll be right back," Shawna said, and she jumped, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

"Jerk," Lisa growled with feeling.

"I need you to get up, Lisa," Len said. She frowned, and then stood, stepping back into the plane. Lisa only moved enough so she could be right behind him, leaning forward to support Len's back on the steps.  Len moved his hand to the space she'd occupied, not wincing as much as he had before, and rested his forearm and hand against the steel step.

The steps were large enough that his arm resting on it had space, almost like a table.  Barry figured this was where they were going to... his eyes jumped away from Len's hand to look at the man's face.

"Lenny," Lisa said softly. She sat, awkwardly on the steps, so she could set her hands on Len's shoulders.

"I cool my hand," Len said, eyes flickering to Mick, "are you willing to cut it off? And close to the wrist if you can manage."

"'Course I can," Mick said, and he moved closer. His hands adjusted on the hatchet.

There was a puff of smoke and Len flinched horribly, but it was Shawna. She was holding a box of first aid supplies in her hands with a number of grey rags.  The box had the same logo from the plane on it. "I'm ready," Shawna said, glancing at Mark who was still keeping his distance.

"Three minutes, now or never," Len said. He closed his eyes when he pressed the trigger on the gun.

Cold air steamed from barrel of the gun, colliding with the palm of his hand. White ice shot out, the hand was shaking, the blood stopping as it froze, this pattern of freeze and ice, trembling skin, going up to Len's elbow.

Len groaned, a low noise, and turned his head toward Barry. He took several deep breaths, and then Barry reached up. He grabbed Len's neck, pulling Len's face against his shoulder. Len complied, pressing against Barry while Lisa ran her hands soothingly along his shoulders.

"Now," Len said into Barry's shoulder. Barry grabbed him tight, closing his eyes.

Barry heard the whistle in the air first, the sound of the hatchet falling down. And then Len tensed in his arms, Len's right hand grabbing Barry's shirt and pulling him tight.

Len screamed with a low groan first, like he was trying to hold back, but that sound grew louder and he held Barry close to him. _"Fuck!"_ Len yelled, face pushed hard against Barry. His next scream ripped from his throat, pushing against his clenched jaw.   _“Barry,”_ Len growled, the words pained.  Barry held Len as tight as he was able to, clenching his eyes shut because he couldn’t manage to look.

That was over quickly.  Mick stepped back and Shawna moved forward in his place.

Len shuddered underneath him every once in awhile, pushing his face against Barry’s tighter every time Shawna whispered, _“Sorry.”_   This part seemed to take an eternity.  Barry held Len as best as he could as Len trembled in his arms.

When it was over it was just… over.  Mick said something about, “Getting rid of it,” and Mark Mardon made an announcement telling them he’d vomited into one of the coffins.  

Len didn’t move for a long time.  Eventually Barry opened his eyes, blinking back the wetness keeping him from seeing.  

Len’s left arm was still outstretched, but the grey rags were wrapped tight around it and the bleeding hadn’t gone through them yet.  His arm just ended before it was supposed to.  

Barry forced his eyes away and kissed the top of Len’s head.  “I love you,” Barry said softly, closing his eyes again.  All he wanted was to go back to their bedroom and pretend like they were safe there.

* * *

They went back to the house.  No one brought up the fact the zombies would know they were in Central City.  The airfield, Barry told himself, was far away enough from the Brownstones that it could give them _some_ cover if the zombies came.  Not if the hoard was large enough but…

Mark’s ribs were acting up, Caitlin was still having trouble calming down, Iris had twisted her ankle badly, Eddie’s left eye was swollen so he couldn’t even see out of it, everyone had minor injuries that were bothering them, everyone was still nervous and wary of the raiders they’d let go on their way.  And _Len._  

Barry helped Len pull the rest of the parka off, and then Len followed Barry’s gentle nudges and sat down on one of the loveseats in their living room.  Barry sat next to Len, turning his body to face him, and brushed the sleeve of his red jacket against Len’s forehead again to wipe at the sweat.  

Len was breathing hard, face pale, still sweating.  The bandages were starting to bleed through but for his sake Shawna wanted to wait until the Tylenol started to work before she changed them.  

“Water,” Lisa said to Barry.  

Barry looked at her.  Lisa seemed weary, tired, and there was blood on the side of her face that could have been from anything.  She was holding out two waterbottles and Barry took them.

Barry almost handed it to Len right away, and then he remembered to open the top of it.  Len’s eyes were slightly glazed over, he was watching Barry but his lip curled in a grimace from the pain.  Barry ran his hand over the top of Len’s head and held the open water bottle to his lips.

“Len,” Lisa asked, kneeling down beside the couch.  She grabbed her brother’s knee.  “Are you hungry?”

“No,” Len said, the word sounding hard to say.  He opened his mouth enough for the bottle and took a short sip before turning away.  Len coughed immediately, raising his right hand to his mouth.  He took the bottle from Barry, his fingers shaking, and took a careful drink on his own.

Mick Rory watched them from a distance before speaking up.  “Len, whiskey?”

 _“Yes,”_ Len said with a grateful look to his friend.

Barry set his own bottle down against the cushions.  Without anything to do with his hands he just clasped them together in front of him and waited.

It had been two hours.  Len didn’t have a fever or any symptoms besides that of pain in his hand so they were hoping.  It was looking good that Len wouldn't turn.

“I’m going to get some ice,” Lisa said.  She leaned forward enough to reach Len’s holster, pulling out the cold gun.  Len didn’t seem to notice.  “We’ll put it on your hand for twenty minutes and then Shawna’s going to redress it.”

Barry shuddered.  

Len moved just enough to lean against Barry’s side.  He was hot, warm, heavy, and shaking.   _“Barry,”_ Len said as he breathed out, the word quiet and tired.

“I love you,” Barry said.  He wrapped his arms around Len’s shoulders and pulled Len close until Barry’s back was on the end of the couch and Len was laying on his chest. They waited together for Lisa to come back with ice.

* * *

Barry dropped the bucket of ice at the side of the bed with a grateful sigh.  He clapped his hands together; the metal handles of the bucket had dug into his palms until it hurt while he'd carried it up the stairs.   _“Alright,_ so here’s how this is going to go,” Barry said, crossing his arms over his chest.  He wiped away the sweat that was pooling at his neck.  “You make me get up whenever it starts to hurt and we’ll replace the ice on your arm.”  If the ice melted, they could always freeze it again.  

For once, the cold gun was more useful than the heat gun.

Barry turned around to see Len kneeling down, struggling to pull off his boots.  “For fucks- _Len,”_ Barry said, exasperated.  Since Len had drunk the whiskey he kept trying to do things that Barry knew Len couldn't yet.  He walked over, pulled Len up to his feet by his shirt and forced Len to sit on the bed.  Barry dropped to his knees and took Len’s boots off for him while Len glared.

“I can do that,” Len insisted.

“Give me at least a couple days of doing everything for you, alright?” Barry said.  He tossed the boots over in the near vicinity of the closet.  Len’s socks smelled, which was so incredibly normal that Barry almost laughed while he pulled them off.  

Len sighed.  He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling and resigned to let Barry undress him.  

Barry wasn’t sure if they wanted to try getting Len’s shirt off, but then again it was covered in sweat and blood on the left side that Barry could probably just cut it off and it wouldn’t be much of a loss.  He tugged Len’s belt and jeans off first.  “How are you feeling?” Barry asked.  He pulled off Len’s boxers and then gathered the clothes up in his hand.  He dumped them by the door, and as he came back he pulled his hunting knife from the holster on his thigh.

Len looked up, raising his eyebrow at the knife.  “Not bad enough to be euthanized,” he said, voice slurred from the alcohol.

“Ha, ha.”  Barry pulled Len’s thermal shirt off just enough to stick the knife under and start to cut through the fabric.

“Don’t want to try taking it off?” Len asked.  “Probably a good idea.”

“How are you feeling?” Barry asked again.  The thermal shirt was thin and it was quick work for Barry to get it off.

“I feel fine.  Cool.  Handy,” Len said, shrugging.  

Barry glared at him.  “Do you want to wash up?” He asked, annoyed.

Len grimaced at the idea.  “Fuck, Barry, I’m too tired.”

“I could do it for you?” Barry offered.  He held the shirt in his hand and made a ‘wax on, wax off’ gesture.  “Like a sponge bath?”

“In the morning,” Len said.  He lifted his right arm, hiding his eyes under his elbow and took a deep breath.   _“Fuck,”_ Len mumbled, “long day.”

“Long, shitty day,” Barry agreed.

This day would certainly make the cut for ‘ _Worst Days of Barry Allen’s Life_ ’.  

“I put the sweatpants and crap in the dresser.”  Len sighed, trying to point to it with his left hand before he realized that would hurt.  Len dropped the arm onto the bed with a wince. 

Barry flashed over to the dresser and opened it.  He undressed himself quickly, throwing on fresh clothes that were comfortable enough to sleep in before he took some for Len.  

 _“Handy,”_ Len repeated to himself, seemingly lost in thought.

Barry rolled his eyes.  He was over to Len’s side in a moment and was tugging warm socks over Len’s feet because… they smelled and Len’s feet were freezing at night.  He dressed Len’s lower half quickly.

Len dropped his arm so he could look at Barry as Barry was pulling up sweatpants.  “I’m putting myself in your very capable hands tonight,” Len said, voice enunciating a ' _z_ ' in the word _'hands'._

“Stop it.”  Barry had to lift Len’s body up just a bit to get the sweatpants on.  Barry had brought a shirt over too, but then Barry decided against even trying it.  Len slept shirtless half the time anyways.  

“Nice to have such a handsome nurse,” Len continued, deadpan, “I’d offer a helping hand but I’m stumped.”

Barry sighed, rubbing his temples almost aggressively.  “For _fucks_ sake.”

“Come on,” Len reached out, grabbing the oversized, triathlon shirt Barry was wearing and tugging him close, “that last one was clever and there were layers to it.  I’ll use it on Lisa tomorrow.”

“The ice is helping?” Barry asked, because Len did look a little better.  Icing the hand… or _wrist,_ taking Tylenol, and the five hours since the accident had brought some sort of color to Len’s face.  He’d managed to finally eat something not too long ago and also had a good amount of whiskey in his system at Mick’s insistence.

All of the Rogues had stayed up, the ones who couldn't help like Mark and Hartley keeping their distance, but everyone had been watching, waiting.  Len had managed to inspire loyalty in his group and Barry hadn't even noticed until tonight how much the others respected Len.

“I’ve definitely stopped sweating,” Len said.  There was a plastic bag tucked into the bandages, holding the ice against his wrist.

Barry crawled onto the bed next to him and grabbed Len’s shoulders.  He tugged Len onto the bed further, Len awkwardly pushing up with his legs, and then eventually Barry fluffed a pillow under Len’s head for him to rest on.

He stayed by Len’s right side, not wanting to accidentally touch Len’s left. 

“I’m a better shot with my right hand, you know,” Len grumbled as Barry pulled the blankets over the two of them.  “So that’s good.”

“You’re also not turning grey or mumbling about a love of brains,” Barry added, “which is pretty good.”  Barry fell back onto the bed with a huff.  He looked at the ceiling for awhile before turning to match Len’s gaze.  

Len was still alive.  Hurt but alive.  It was all Barry could hope for these days.

“We could find a way to get a lookout somewhere high,” Len said.  His eyes were tired, lazy, but there was a bit of a curve on his lips as he looked at Barry.  For someone in so much pain, Len looked actually content.  “Take shifts at night and throughout the day, there are eleven of us after all.  More once we find your father and Joe West.”

“We have Bivolo,” Barry added.  “He came back with us, not with the rest of the raiders.  The others decided to lock him in the basement with some candles and blankets to see if he could be trusted.  Lisa made him wear your goggles.”

Len wrinkled his forehead as he thought.  “I don’t remember that.”

“You were pretty out of it.”

“I guess I lost a bit of myself back there,” Len said, his voice dead serious despite the amused look on his face, “on the other hand, I’m feeling rather chill now.”

“For _fuck’s sake_ ,” Barry growled at him.  Len was injured, lost his _fucking_ hand and he was- well of _course_ Len was joking about it.  Len was a closet idiot who spent his days in a parka he was sentimentally attached to, living a larger than life persona called ‘ _Captain Cold_ ’ with his sister and best friend.  Len was the most intensely serious, yet childish, person Barry knew.

“That one impressed me,” Len acknowledged with a dip of his head, “I’m clever.”

“You’re drunk,” Barry reminded him.  He wasn’t sure how much color in Len’s face was from the blood coming back after the pain or the whiskey.  At least Len wasn’t feeling his arm… wrist, stump, thing?... so much.  

“Yeah,” Len agreed.  He shifted, hardly even wincing in pain, until he was lying more on his right side and he could look at Barry easier.  His glazed over eyes still managed to look at Barry with fierce intensity.  “You love me, you know.”

“Of course I do.  You need to go to sleep,” Barry told him.  

“You _told_ me you love me,” Len repeated, as if unsure.

“Yeah.  Len.  I told you that yesterday too.”

Len snorted.  “We were fucking when you said it.  It didn’t count.”

 _“God,_ you’re so drunk,” Barry said, and he tried not to smile.  It wasn’t really appropriate for the moment, not with the churning anxiety in Barry’s gut that wouldn't go away.  “It counted.  I meant it.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Len paused to take in a deep breath, he hadn’t thought the sentence through, and then continued, “let you take it back.”

“Well ‘I love you, you love me’,” Barry said, not able to resist the sing-song tone, “and you’re not dead or eaten by zombies so let’s go to sleep, and try not to die tomorrow.”

“Never gon’ die,” Len said as he sighed.  “We have to get to that prison soon.”

“We will,” Barry assured him.  “As soon as everyone can move we will get out of here but let’s let it last while we can.”

Len closed his eyes, resting his head against the pillow.  “Love you,” he mumbled, the words almost muffled up by the cushion.  

Barry moved forward, pressing a kiss on Len’s mouth.  He rested his arm over Len’s stomach, hand tucking against Len’s side.  “Love you, Len.”

It was almost a really great, really sweet moment.  But the metallic scent of blood was still in the air, they both stank of sweat and ash, gunshots, and the distinct smell of the dead.  They’d seen too much today for Barry to be able to let go of the memories.  Still, he could almost manage as he felt Len’s warm body, alive and human, against his own and closed his exhausted eyes.  

“I’ll try not to wake you up too often tonight,” Len muttered, the tired tinge to his voice making it just a low grumble, “don’t want to be a handful.”

 _“Stop.”_ Barry grinned into his pillow.

* * *

 Mick Rory was making pancakes again, and Shawna straining some blueberries she'd found a can of.  Mark Mardon was sleepily staring at the kitchen table while holding a stack of plates and not doing anything, half asleep and swaying a bit on his feet.  They were the only ones awake when Barry came down carrying the bucket of ice with Len's cold gun strapped to the side of his sweatpants.

"Morning," Barry said, jaw still clenched shut from exhaustion.  He hadn't gotten more than one or two hours of sleep at a time before Len had been reluctantly shaking Barry awake so Barry could put more ice on his wrist. 

"Morning," Shawna said in reply.  She put the colander on the counter beside Mick for the man to dump into his batter.  Shawna turned, jumping up to sit on the other end of the counter.  She pointed to a cup of steaming coffee, the bottom of the bowl ashy black from the heat gun.  "Want some?"

Barry nodded.  He wished they could find orange juice somewhere, for some reason the thought of that was very appealing.  He settled for coffee.  Barry moved forward to make it but Shawna shook her head and gestured for him to sit down at the kitchen table.

In a few moments, Shawna was setting a small cup of coffee, with generous sugar and powdered, non-dairy creamer, in front of Barry.  She glanced at Mark Mardon, who suddenly remembered he was awake, and then Mark was walking through the couch-filled living room toward the parlor.  "We set up two big tables in there," Shawna said to Barry, "Iris and Lisa decided we should have breakfast together again but Lisa thought we should make it this time."

Barry nodded.  He held the coffee in his hands and blinked at it.  The smell was helping him wake up.

"I take it Fearless Leader isn't a zombie?" Shawna asked with a yawn.

"Nope."  Barry finally took a drink of the shitty coffee.  It was bad.  But it was coffee.  "You're all up early."

"I made Mark come with me to get something," Shawna told him, "and I wanted some fruit cans.  There are lots of places with cans around here, you know, it's like paradise."  And then she looked at a brown paper bag over by the door.  She pointed to it with her thumb.  "I got the Captain something for when he wakes up."

Barry smiled at her, grateful.  "Thanks," he said with feeling.  He glanced at the back of Mick's shirt while Mick worked on making the pancake mix.  "What are you doing up?"

Mick Rory glanced behind him, catching Barry's eye.  He shrugged, frowning and looking exhausted, and turned back to the pancake mix. 

"Lisa filled the refrigerator with ice last night," Shawna said, "so we have some cold water and sodas.  I stuck some ginger ale in there, figured it would be good for Captain if he starts feeling nauseous, just so you know.  Tylenol," Shawna pointed to one of the cabinets, "and the rest of the medical supplies I stuck in there.  Can you do me a favor?"

Barry took another sip of the coffee and felt himself waking up.  He nodded.

"I talked to Hartley last night," Shawna told Barry, a serious look on her face.  Barry stared at Shawna, seeing the concern, and he looked away.  Rising heat from guilt and embarrassment made him blush and he concentrated on the coffee.  Shawna reached out, pressing her hand gently on Barry's forearm.  "It's no one's fault," Shawna said, "believe me.  I've actually been involved in this kind of drama quite a lot.  You should just talk to him.  He's outside."

Barry sighed, lifting one hand to rub his temples. 

"If you can't talk to him yet I understand," Shawna said gently, "but whenever you can.  Just let him down easy."

Barry wondered if Iris had ever had this same conversation with someone else but regarding Barry.  Barry shook his head to try and shake out the sleep.  "No, I should do it now," he decided. 

"He's in the backyard," Shawna said.  She stood up, as Mark Mardon was coming back through the door. 

There were still crickets outside when Barry was walking out, though it was bright enough to see.  The air was frigid, and Barry crossed his arms in front of his chest as he trudged forward.  The backyard was small, it was a brownstone after all, with yellow dirt, some piles of snow along the edges of the fence, and a short porch with a grill and a bench.  The green cloaked figure on the bench had to be Hartley, so Barry walked toward him.  Barry dragged his feet while he walked.

He sat down next to Hartley but on the far end of the bench.  Hartley hunched over immediately.  Antoinette was in his lap, content and sleeping, while Hartley was stroking her back with two fingers.  He was wearing dark glasses, Barry noticed, but they were reading glasses and obviously not prescription.  It was probably the best they could manage now.

"I'm glad she's okay," Barry said.  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  One of his legs started bouncing up and down and he just let it, feeling like maybe some of the nervous energy cold dissipate through it.

"She got pretty shaken up," Hartley said quietly.  "Did Shawna send you out here?"

"Yeah."  Barry looked straight ahead instead of looking at Hartley.  The sky over the house in front of them was light blue and cloudy.

"I'm sorry about what was said under Bivolo's emotional influence.  If I was allowed to punch that dick in the face I sincerely doubt I'd be able to resist the urge." 

"Yeah.  I almost killed Oliver Queen when he did it to me," Barry said.  And then he corrected, "Oliver also almost killed _me_ so..."

Hartley wrinkled his forehead in confusion.  "Oliver Queen?" He repeated.

"Oh."  Barry shrugged.  It couldn't matter at all anymore, so he clarified, "The Arrow."

Hartley snorted.  " _Oliver Queen_."  His hand continued its calming pattern, stroking Antoinette's fur.  "Do all super-Quixote's run in the same circles?"

"I guess a lot of us do," Barry nodded.  "Firestorm, Arrow, Black Canary... but I don't know anything about that girl who can fly that people keep bringing up."

"How's Captain Cold doing?" Hartley asked.  He looked away from Barry, pulling the hood lower over his face.

"Good.  Len's doing good." 

"Glad to hear it," Hartley said.

Barry bit the inside of his lip.  "You are?"

"I'm not a total asshole.  I thought you knew that."  Hartley stilled his hand on Antoinette.  He pointedly stared away from Barry.

Barry looked at the back of Hartley's head and felt guilty.  "I do.  I'm sorry."

"I'm the numbskull who should be making amends here," Hartley mumbled.

"You're not an idiot."

"I _am_ an idiot," Hartley insisted.

Barry sighed.  "Hartley, it's okay.  I'm not going to tell Len."

"I don't care if you tell him," Hartley tapped his fingers on the side of the bench to a rhythm in his head.  "I'm just sorry that we were friends and then I make a complete and utter imbecile of myself and it makes everything between us change."

"I can forget it," Barry told him honestly.

Hartley sighed.  "I know.  I can't."

This was just getting too complicated.  "Can you just tell me what you're thinking so I can understand?" He asked, exasperated.  Barry was exhausted, he'd had one of the worst days of his life yesterday and had not slept well last night, and frankly his patience was wearing a little thin. 

Hartley lifted Antoinette up to his shoulder.  She was awake and moving in an instant, sniffling at the side of his hood.  And then Hartley crossed his legs, pulling them up onto the bench.  He sighed.  "I'm mad at Lisa Snart and Cisco," he confessed.

Barry blinked.  "Why?"

"Because it took them pretty much two fucking hours and then they were matching up and everything was fine and fucking great.  He slept over here last night, you know.  He's upstairs."

Barry looked back at the house in surprise.  He hadn't known that.

"So that's it.  Solved.  Good for them.  A regular Jane Austen story."

"Did you..." Barry frowned, unsure, "with Cisco too-"

Hartley made a disgusted noise.  " _Fuck_ no," he growled, "I'm just saying it was so _easy_ for them and yet I'm stuck here.  What do you think are the odds, statistically, that I'm going to find _anyone_."  He looked Barry straight in the eye, brown eyes angry.  " _Guess_."

"I... I don't-"

"I have no idea either, but I am certain the odds are not high in my favor," Hartley clenched his first and pressed it into his thigh.  "It just..." He looked like he was searching for a better word, something more intelligent, but Hartley gave up and mumbled, " _sucks_.  It sucks."

"I'm sorry," Barry said genuinely.  Barry knew that same lonely and rejected feeling intimately.  "Len and I took awhile to get together, you know.  It was almost two months before I even managed to think about him as anything but Captain Cold so... there's still a chance.  It might just take time."

"If you..." Hartley reached up and tugged the hood down over his eyes again.  "If you hadn't met Len and we'd met, in this whole mess, do you think...?" He let the sentence drop.

"We shouldn't go there," Barry said apologetically.

"Please."  Hartley rubbed his hands together nervously.  "Just for a second and we'll pretend we never talked about it.  Go back to being normal, eating pancakes and talking about Antoinette and I can pretend like you know enough about science to hold a conversation with me."

Barry rolled his eyes. 

Hartley was looking at him with a grin on his face but when their eyes met it turned back into a frown.  "Would you ever have considered being with me?" Hartley asked.

Barry swallowed.  He was uncomfortable.  "Maybe, Hartley."

"I mean it just... based on my shitty personality and," Hartley gestured to his face, "everything.  Would you have ever considered it?"

"I don't know," Barry told him honestly, "I wouldn't now, but I have Len.  And before Len I was in love with someone else."

Hartley squinted his eyes, looking at Barry's face with something like concern and worry.  And then Hartley was moving forward, reaching up to hold Barry's head in his hands.  Barry froze, not sure what to do, as Hartley pulled his head down and then was kissing him.

It was soft, gentle.  Just a press of Hartley's lips onto his and Hartley lingered, holding the position.  Barry stayed stiff and didn't move, but he didn't try to leave either.  Hartley's hand was on Barry's thigh, leaning over him, the green cloak sliding along Barry's knee.  And then Hartley turned his head, to kiss him deeper, moving up closer to him but Barry put his hands on Hartley's chest to stop him from going further.

Hartley slowly moved away.  His mouth dragged off Barry's reluctantly, and then he was pulling back and looking at Barry with wide eyes.  "I guess you didn't feel anything?" Hartley asked, voice shaking with nerves.

Barry shook his head.

"Okay," Hartley said, struggling to keep his face from crumbling.  "I'm sorry.  I won't... I'm sorry."

Barry, on instinct, reached out and grabbed the man's shoulders.  He pulled Hartley into a tight hug.  "We'll find other people, Hartley," Barry promised.

Hartley nodded, clenching Barry's shirt tightly.  "I'm _so_ sorry, I shouldn't-"  He said, voice shaking, "So many people are _dead_ , you know, I-"

"It's okay," Barry said.  He meant it.  Things _were_ going to be fine between them.

"Don't tell Cold?" Hartley mumbled into Barry's shoulder.

"Okay," Barry said.  He gave Hartley a tight squeeze and then pulled away.  "Pancakes?" 

Hartley wiped at his nose with his sleeve, looking down at the ground.  He nodded.  "Sure.  Pancakes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and yeah, these are Supergirl references btw. And apologies for how the last chapter ended, pls enjoy the puns.


	28. Day 3, Central City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler warning: references to the Prestige (2006), which is a great movie but one of the characters says the major twist for the film. sorry. it's almost ten years old now though so... i won't change it. go stream the movie, it has Nikola Tesla in it and i almost met his ghost a couple times.
> 
> You know what's weird? I don't like pancakes. I ate them this morning anyway because I've been writing about pancakes so much.

Iris gave Barry a big hug the moment she walked through the door, Barry returned it.  They held each other tight, ignoring the rest of her group, Eddie, James, and Caitlin as they walked through the door. 

Cisco had suddenly ‘appeared’ downstairs beside Lisa not too long ago.  Barry hadn’t managed to talk to him yet, the moment Barry and Hartley had come back inside Shawna handed Barry three cans of fruit she wanted opened and strained and forced Hartley with her into another room to talk.

Barry had been able to see them out of the corner of his eye, though Mick’s low grumbling as the pyromaniac fired up the pancakes kept Barry from being able to hear.  Shawna looked annoyed, then sad, and Hartley eventually went upstairs alone.  

Apples, apples, and apples were the three cans.  Shawna came back, something unreadable in her eye, and then she took the apples into a bowl and stared at them for a long moment.  Eventually they’d thrown in some sugar, water, cinnamon, and a tiny bit of juice and mashed it; the result wasn’t horrifying.  Barry had been waiting the entire time for a lecture from Shawna about Hartley but it didn’t come.

He was more than glad when he could hug Iris and put the whole morning behind him.  “I’m gunna need you for something later, okay?” Iris whispered in his ear.

Barry hoped it wasn’t anything to make him more anxious and tired than he already was.  “Sure,” he agreed.  

“We made it just in time, it was about to rain.”  Caitlin gave Barry a smile, which was a welcome sight after the state she’d been in last night.  “Bivolo isn’t…” She asked nervously.

“They brought some food to him downstairs,” Barry told her, “but we’re not letting him up yet.”

Caitlin nodded, looking a little relieved.  She gave Barry a small grin as she joked, “I thought they were mad as us for making a prison.”

“We all kind of agreed we wanted Len to talk to Bivolo before we could trust him, Len just hasn’t been… able to,” Barry hesitated in the middle of the sentence.  He’d been about to say ‘ _Len just hasn’t been on hand_ ’.  Barry grimaced at the thought, annoyed that Len’s drunk jokes from the last night apparently were still in his brain.

“How’s he doing?” Caitlin asked, sympathetic.  Iris put her hand on Barry’s shoulder, similar pitying look on her face.  “I can take a look at him,” Caitlin offered, “I’m a real doctor.”

 _“Rude,”_ Shawna pointed out as she walked past them with the bowl of applesauce.  

Caitlin’s eyes widened and she backtracked immediately.  “I didn’t mean… not to say I’m sure your semesters at medical school weren’t helpful… um…”

Shawna set the applesauce down on one of the tables with a slam, glaring up at Caitlin.  “You want to check out my boyfriend too? In case I didn’t bandage his ribs right? Or the bruise on Mick’s shoulder? Oh, we all have some little cuts, maybe I’m just not _qualified_ enough to-”

 _“Shawna,”_ Barry frowned at her, “Caitlin was just offering to help.  I’d actually like a second opinion, considering what happened.”  

Shawna sighed, shaking her head in annoyance.  She teleported, turning into a puff of smoke, back into the living room on her way to the kitchen so she wouldn’t have to walk by them.  “Marriage is _off,”_ Shawna called out behind her.

Barry almost laughed.  “Anyway,” he said.  Eddie and James Jesse were standing behind the two girls, looking unsure what to do.  “You can sit at the tables if you want?” Barry offered.  He took another glance at the set up.  Two long, uneven dining room tables from nearby houses were pressed together, and there was an island shoved into the corner with the coffee and water bottles on top of it.  Otherwise the room was bare, but Barry was pretty proud of the work his group had done.  

He wasn’t going to lie to himself and pretend like the Rogues weren’t trying to show off, but as long as the competition between the two groups stayed in the arena of well-thought-out breakfasts Barry wouldn’t point it out.  

“We have coffee,” Barry told the two men.  

Eddie shrugged.  He was holding a book, and he went to the dining room with James beside him for the coffee.  Caitlin and Iris stayed next to Barry.

“Did Barry say he’s going to help with _the thing?”_ Caitlin asked Iris.  She started patting down the wrinkles on her shirt, a long sleeve black sweatshirt with ‘STAR Labs’ written on it, and jeans.

Iris nodded, a serious look on her face.  Her eyes flickered from Eddie back to Caitlin.  “We uh… we should ask Shawna if she needs to come.”

“Shawna?” Caitlin asked, apparently not liking the idea.

“You were the one who opened up to Shawna,” Iris whispered to Caitlin, “it’s not like I’m saying _Lisa_ should come.  But you _told_ Shawna when you were dealing with Bivolo.”

“What is this about?” Barry asked, confused.

“We’ll tell you soon,” Iris promised. She saw Cisco in the kitchen, tinkering with the refrigerator door.  “Did Cisco stay over here last night?”

“Yeah, with Lisa,” Barry explained.  “She has a thing for him.”

“She _does?!”_ Caitlin blinked rapidly in surprise.  “I thought she was leading him on about that.”

“Maybe a little bit before,” Barry shrugged, “not now.”  Barry yawned, still tired from the lack of sleep last night.  He hadn’t had a cup of coffee yet, though he knew the caffeine wouldn’t give him a boost for too long.  He leaned against the wall on the hallway, crossing his arms.  He needed to eat and get some more rest.  Iris moved immediately next to him with a deep sigh and then she rested her head on Barry’s shoulder.  Caitlin stood, awkwardly running her hands down her shirt to give herself something to do.

“I guess you know Lisa Snart and Mick Rory pretty well now,” Iris asked.

“Well, yeah,” Barry said.

“So they’re internationally known thieves, right?  Caitlin was telling me Lisa specializes in more quick, easy money jobs; transporting goods and robbing high profile exhibits and homes?  And Mick Rory once burned down an entire police station to delete a single piece of evidence in a mobster’s conviction case?”  Iris had an eager grin on her face.

“Probably?” Barry said.  He thought for a moment.  “We haven’t actually talked too much about what they used to do.”

“Do you think I can ask them about it?” Iris nudged Barry’s side with her elbow.

“Go ahead,” Barry said, “Len’s the one who doesn’t talk about old jobs much, Lisa and Mick will probably be more willing to do it.”

Iris nodded, thinking.  “You’ll let me ask uh… _Len,_ about it though, right? ‘Cause basically, I was inspired by all those testimonials on _Hal Jordan Radio_ and I’ve been interviewing everyone I can about their lives before the apocalypse, with a brief snippet about how they got where they are now.  Mostly the people who come in to trade.  The High Li-” she hesitated, a pained look crossing her face before she continued, “anyway.  And all these Rogues would make a great addition.  And you!” Iris nudged Barry’s side again.  “You’re going to tell me _everything,_ got it?”

Barry smiled at her.  “No problem.  Ask away and if anyone gives you a hard time I’ll sort them out,” he joked.  He turned to jam two fingers under her ribs and Iris jumped.

Laughing, she shoved his shoulder back with the palm of her hand.  “Stop, Bear!”

“Don’t hit me,” Barry joked, holding his hands up in surrender, “I’m your only source for your article.  Hit me and it’s all over.”

“It’s a novel!” Iris protested with a laugh.  She moved to push his shoulder again.

Barry made use of his superspeed, ducking under her arm, and then he came up and grabbed her at the waist.  He lifted her up, holding her slung over his back like Tarzan.

 _“Bear!”_ Iris yelled, surprised and laughing.  It was infectious, and Barry was laughing at her too. “Put me _down,”_ she protested, lightly hitting his back, “that was _cheating.”_

Barry did, setting her down easily.  Then, with their arms around each other, they smiled.  Whatever ‘normal’ was, Barry and Iris had found it for a few moments.  Iris pulled him into a tight hug again and neither of them brought up Joe, but Barry knew Iris was thinking about him too.

 _“Some of us_ are helping with breakfast,” Lisa complained in a sing-song voice as she walked passed the two of them to get to the dining room.

“I’m… entertaining the guests?” Barry offered.  Iris snorted and rolled her eyes at him.  Barry almost stuck her tongue out at her but didn’t at the last moment.  That would have been… exceedingly childish.  He made a mental note to do that _later_ when his boyfriend’s sister wasn’t looking.

“Wake Len up,” Lisa ordered.

“Oh,” Iris said, remembering, “how’s he doing?  He’s still… not a… you know…”

“He’s okay,” Barry nodded.  “So um… yeah,” he gestured to the dining room for Iris and Caitlin, “we have coffee.  We don’t have any books besides what was already here when we moved in and these people were boring, but we put them all on a bookshelf over there,” he gestured across the hallway to the living room with all the couches, “mostly it’s about fishing.  The shed has all these fishing lures and there’s a kayak in the basement-”

“We’ll be fine, Bear,” Iris grinned at him, “see you in a bit for breakfast?”

Caitlin, walking past them, mumbling, “I can’t believe _Heatwave_ is making me pancakes.”

Barry called the lightning to him and then bolted up the stairs, past the bedroom doors, and over to the master bedroom in a flash.  It was entirely about avoiding walking by Hartley.  

He opened the door slowly, walking slowly into the master bedroom.  

Len wasn’t in the bed, but Barry heard movement by the bathroom.  He walked over and as he did Barry glanced at the blinds over the bedroom windows, remembering the blue fabric he’d wanted and… _hell,_ after they had breakfast Barry was going to get those damned blue curtains.  

The bathroom door was open, and Len was standing, dripping a little, in boxers with his face lathered up and a razor in his hand.  He was frowning at his face in the mirror.  His left wrist, still wrapped in the plastic bag with the ice around it, was handing loosely at his side, slightly angled away from him.

“Shaving?”  Barry asked.  He shut the bathroom door behind him and leaned against it.  Len was still wearing socks, mostly naked though, the boxers not covering the tattoo of the ice skull on his thigh that Barry liked.  Barry let himself indulge for just a moment, tracing the pattern of muscles on Len’s back.

Len was still alive.  Still with him.  

Barry sighed, breathed out the words, “I love you,” and took a few steps forward to wrap his arms around Len’s stomach.  It was ridiculously comforting to be able to say those words.

Len was being very careful, just brushing the razor along his jaw and not pressing too hard.  It would still leave him with a little stubble but at least it would be somewhat tamed.  Barry didn’t bother offering to do it for him. If Len wanted Barry to help Len would have asked.

Len’s skin was still a little wet.  “You took a bath?” Barry wondered, a little confused.

Len shook his head.  “Lisa brought up some gallons of water.  I stood in the bath and dumped them over my head, seemed to do the trick.”

Barry snorted.  “I told you I’d help.”

“I can handle pouring water on my head,” Len told him.  There was a wet rag on the side of the sink, and Len used it to wipe soap suds off the right side of his face before he moved to his left.  “Love you too,” he added.

Barry gave him a short smile, and rested his head on Len’s shoulder.  He looked at the two of them in the mirror.

They both looked exhausted.  Len still was pale, a bit shaky from pain and blood loss, but otherwise fine and alive.  Len looked _good._  Hard angles, sharp features, strong body and with his magical resilience to pain that was… rather attractive.  Len kept his calm in any situation and even now; his hand had been cut off less than twenty-four hours ago and Len nearly turned into a zombie, but there Len was, standing in the bathroom and figuring out how to shave with one hand.

Barry’s hair was patted down on one side, sticking up on the other, and he reached around Len’s waist to grab one of the gallons of water.  He poured just a bit on his hand, and then ran the wet hand through his hair to fix it while squinting at his reflection.  He looked sleepy, a bit like a mess, Barry didn’t get why Hartley would have-

Barry’s eyes widened for a moment and he bit his lip as guilt rose up in his stomach.   _Don’t think about it,_ Barry told himself.

Len had an amused look on his face as his eyes moved, just a bit, to look at Barry.  “How’s everyone doing downstairs?”

“Good.  Coffee, pancakes, Shawna made applesauce that's not great but better than scurvy.  She's nto fruit today.  She has some package for you too, I didn't ask what it was.”  Barry pressed a kiss between Len’s shoulders.  He held Len tight and thought for a moment, his face hidden from view.  Len’s muscles moved just a bit underneath him and it was a comforting reassurance that Len was there, alive.

“We’re not going to be able to rest for long.  I’m thinking two days at the max.  We should find other vehicles to ride and camping equipment and then we have to make our way to the prison or we’ll lose the opportunity,” Len was saying.  Barry could practically feel Len breathing if he rested his cheek on Len’s back.  

“I know,” he said.  

“We’re looking for Joe West and your father,” Len said, sounding like a statement but Barry knew it was a question.

“Yeah.”  Barry closed his eyes and almost felt like he could fall asleep like this, Len’s body against his own, Len moving gently up and down with every breath… Barry was starving for breakfast but at the same time his body ached to get more than two hours of sleep.  Hypoglycemia battling with sleep deprivation.  His limbs felt heavy.

“Any tips?” Len was asking as he finished with the razor and was wiping off the rest of his face.

“Hm? For what?” Barry asked.

“Henry Allen,” Len said.  Len set the rag down on the sink and then leaned forward, his right hand supporting his weight as he looked in the mirror at their reflection.  

Barry yawned against Len’s back.  “Whaddabout'im?” He mumbled.

“Advice for meeting your father, Barry,” Len clarified.

That woke Barry up a bit.  He pulled his head away from Len’s shoulder to connect with Len’s eyes in the mirror.   _“Oh,_ right.”  Barry had been so focused on the mental debate and heartache of wondering and _hoping_ his father was alive he hadn’t really… thought about what would happen if his father _was_ alive.  

“I suppose we can bond over prison,” Len said, grimacing as he looked at Barry’s reflection, “though I don’t think that will do me any favors.”

“I haven’t told him,” Barry said, a sinking feeling in his gut.

Len blinked, looking confused.  Barry noticed Len looked even more tired than Barry felt.  The pain had probably kept Len up nearly all night.  “There haven’t been any phones around, Scarlet, I don’t see how you could have.”

“No I… about being… I haven’t told him I like men,” Barry said with difficulty, “at all.”

Len sighed, lifting his right hand to rub between his eyes.  “You didn’t come out to your father,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Barry apologized.

“Why?” Len turned around, and Barry’s eyes went from Len’s reflection in the mirror to the real thing.  Len leaned against the counter, his right hand traced down Barry’s ear to his neck.  “Do you think he’ll have a bad reaction?”

“Oh, fuck no,” Barry said with a shake of his head, “he’s not… my dad isn’t homophobic.”

“You’re in your mid twenties,” Len said severely, watching Barry’s face carefully as if looking for something, “why wouldn’t you tell him?”

Barry didn’t have a good answer.  He shrugged, but Len didn't accept that as an answer.  

“Barry,” Len said firmly, “we have two days before I’m organizing a search of the prison.  If your father is there I don’t want to be led into that situation blind.  I need to know your thought process.”

Barry sighed.  He rubbed his temples, thinking, and Len pulled him closer, right hand on Barry’s shirt.  “Joe got weird when I told him,” Barry said.

“And?” Len encouraged, watching Barry with a serious look in his eye.

“He wasn’t… Joe isn’t homophobic either, Captain Singh is gay or… or was, that’s… our police captain for the department.  Joe just,” Barry shrugged, “I don’t know.  He was disappointed?  He didn’t want to talk about it at all and when I brought it up he’d act like I didn’t say anything.  The one time we talked about it when, you know, when I was in high school-” Barry stopped, feeling a bit exposed.  “Look, it was in the past it doesn’t matter.”  He didn’t want to talk to Len about high school, Len was older and the difference in their ages sort of obvious the more Barry dwelt on it.

“What did he say?” Len pressed.  He brushed his hand over Barry’s ear again.  Len’s left arm twitched, like he was thinking about moving it but stopped.  “This matters.  I’m going to be meeting the detective too if all goes well.”

Barry shook his head.  “It’s not important.  We can deal with the fall out when it comes up.”

“Unless you plan on dumping me when we get to the prison we are going to talk about this,” Len said seriously.

Barry blinked.  “Of _course_ I’m not planning on dumping y-”

“Good.  Tell me what happened when you told Detective West.”  Len’s eyes were so focused on Barry’s that Barry had to look away.  He looked instead at the tattoo on Len’s stomach, the woman with the blonde hair that Len had said reminded him of Lisa.

Barry sighed, running his hand through his now wet hair.  “He asked me all of these questions about the guy I was seeing, like Joe thought I was being manipulated.  Told me I had a bad habit of being too trusting since… well, he didn’t believe me when I said my dad was innocent and Joe used to think I was really gullible.

“You can be,” Len said.

"I did run a blog about impossible things, strange sightings, and UFO's back then," Barry admitted, "though honestly I still kind of think there might be aliens."

"Aliens?" Len said with clear disbelief.

"They're probably already here," Barry said, half-joking and half-serious.  But now that he’d started to explain he figured he should finish.  “Joe didn’t like the guy I was seeing at all.  He wouldn’t let him come over to the house.  He would act fine until I brought him up and then I’d get the silent treatment, just like Iris when Iris dated someone Joe didn’t approve of.  After uh… when we broke up and I told Joe it was over everything just went back to normal.  I came home for college one Christmas and Joe made some joke about a phase I went through in high school.”  Barry shrugged.

“That’s what you said.  ‘A phase’,” Len said thoughtfully.

Barry looked at him, confused.  “What?”

“When we were talking before we were together.  I told you I’d done research on your history, you said it was just a phase you went through in high school,” Len reminded.  

Barry didn’t even remember that.

“That does explain it,” Len told him.  “You told your father figure first, not your actual father, and he had a bad reaction to it so you figured you’d spare your actual father the truth.  You still liked women so you tried ignore it.”

Barry frowned.  “I don’t need you to psychoanalyze me, Len.”

“I’m just trying to get an idea of the situation I’m walking into,” Len said, sympathetic, “Admittedly, I’ve tried to kill you in the past.  Whatever I can do to keep the inevitable meeting from heating up-”

Barry interrupted him.  “It’s just going to be a disaster.  That’s it.”  

Len acknowledged that with a dip of his head.  “A one-handed male criminal? Don’t see why any father wouldn’t be proud.”

Barry rolled his eyes, but he laughed.  “At least you’re on our side this time.”  A grin on his face, he wrapped his arms around Len and pulled him into a tight hug.  Len put his right arm around Barry’s shoulders. The reality of what had happened came back when Barry, not thinking, wondered why Len wasn’t putting his other arm around Barry.

Barry swallowed, eyes moving to look at the stump mass of bandages and ice on Len’s left arm.  It was at that moment he caught his own eyes in the mirror and his brain brought up a memory of the kiss with Hartley.

 _Fuck,_ Barry needed to forget that kiss had ever happened.

He stepped away, clasping Len’s right hand in his own, and he guided them out of the bathroom.  Walking slowly, Barry moved until they’d cross the wide master bedroom and Len was sitting in front of the bed.  He pushed Len down onto it gently.  “Do you mind being late for breakfast?” Barry asked him.

Len took a moment to think about that and then he grinned.  “I’m sure they’ll save us something.”

“They better, I’m starving,” Barry agreed.  He moved in a flash to bedside table, grabbing lubricant and he tossed it onto the side of the bed.

“I’d ask what has you excited,” Len said with a smirk, “but it’s actually more unusual that we did wait an entire day this time.”

Barry ducked his head, kissed the side of Len’s neck so Len wouldn’t see his face.  “I-” Barry started to say, but right then a loud thunderclap from the outside interrupted them.  Both of them jumped, startled at the noise, and it was only moments later Barry could hear a light drizzle of rain again the window.  “It _was_ cloudy earlier,” Barry remembered.

Len’s fingers were tracing the curve of Barry’s ear and neck again, and Len leaned forward to press a soft kiss against Barry’s cheek.  

Barry, distracted, looked at the window with the not-blue curtains and thought for a moment.  “Do you know how lightning is made?”  

“Never needed to,” Len confessed.  He pulled back and his forehead wrinkled in thought.  “Should I?”

“I mean, it’s theoretical.  Lots of science is.  Weather isn’t very well understood,” Barry said.  

Len moved a bit backward on the bed, and Barry moved up onto him.  He pushed his knee between Len’s legs, and was sitting mostly on Len’s lap.  Barry smiled at Len, genuine and happy.  “According to NASA,” Barry began to say.

“Are you giving me a science lesson?” Len interrupted with amusement.

“Bear with me,” Barry promised, “this will make sense in a moment.”  Len shifted his weight and waited expectantly.  “Alright, so clouds are full of ice.  When ice molecules start moving around, getting agitated, knocking against each other, that’s when they release positive and negative charges.  The interaction of those charges,” Barry said, just as another roll of thunder made him pause, “creates mega-volts of electric tension.  The more the friction, the greater the flash density.  As a result, _bam,_ you get lightning.”  Barry grinned.  He rested his hands on the side of Len’s face.  “Interesting, don’t you think?”

Len tilted his head, confused.  “I understand why _you_ are so fascinated by lightning, but if you’re looking for someone to reciprocate your excitement I’d think Mark Mardon would-”

“Len,” Barry said seriously, _“ice_ molecules.   _Ice_ causes lightning.”

Len thought for a moment.  “Oh,” he said when he realized.  “That’s rather romantic of you.”

“Yeah,” Barry nodded, assured.  “It is.  Maybe that’s why we get along so well.”

“I can think of plenty of other reasons,” Len teased, running his right hand along Barry’s shoulder down to his ass.

_“Kiss me.”_

“Hm?” Len looked up in surprise at the force of those words.

“Kiss me,” Barry repeated, urgent.  “I need you to just… I _need_ it.”

Len didn’t hesitate.  He pulled Barry’s hip closer and then was pressing his mouth against Barry’s, hard and tender at the same time.

Barry felt the connection in a moment, that sensation of everything being intense, strong, _exciting._  Kissing Hartley hadn’t felt anything like this.  

Barry turned his head for a better angle.  His hands moved to Len’s shoulders.  Barry, sucking Len’s lip, pushed their faces harder together and then he slowly pressed Len down onto the bed.  It would be easier, he figured, as he opened his mouth to let Len run his tongue along his teeth, to make sure they didn’t bump against Len’s wrist.

Barry could be content to kiss Len forever.  Len’s strong arm held him tight but gentle, his mouth was deep, searching, then pulling back with slow, teasing kisses, that made Barry chase forward after him, wanting more.  Barry _knew_ he didn’t want anyone else.

Len grinned against Barry's lips when Barry pushed him deeper into the mattress.  Len’s right hand slipped under the top of Barry’s pants, finding the hipbone.  His index finger ran along the indent, from Barry’s side to his groin and then Len’s hand stalled.  

Barry traced Len’s mouth with his lips, slowly brushing against them, waiting for Len’s hand to go further but when it didn’t he stopped.  “Len?”  

“Sorry,” Len said, shaking his head a bit.  “Just thinking.”  He tilted his head and kissed the side of Barry’s mouth, then his cheek and neck.  

Barry turned his head so Len had more room to kiss his neck.  “I want you to relax,” Barry told him, “don’t move too much.  Let me know if your arm is hurting.”

“It’s a good thing we checked ‘wall sex’ off the list before I lost my hand,” Len said with a joking tone.

Barry’s stomach dropped.   _“Len,”_ he said.

“Sorry, sorry, that was soon,” Len apologized.  He lifted his hand, brushing Barry’s hair back.  “I have a bad habit of joking when things aren’t funny.”

“I noticed,” Barry said. He took a deep breath, trying to dissipate the pity in his chest.  He knew that Len didn’t want to concentrate on the hand, Len wanted to pretend it happened years ago and not hours, but it was… not easy.

“I also make stupid jokes when I get drunk,” Len admitted.

Barry brushed his thumb over Len’s jaw and kissed him slowly.  “Yeah.  You do.”

Len mouth was soft, gentle, and he sucked slowly on Barry’s lip, pulling his mouth away before he stopped.  “Lisa used to ask me to tell her jokes.  I’ve never been funny,” Len admitted, “then I just got used to talking that way.”

“It _was_ funny,” Barry told him with a grin.  “It was nice to see that you aren’t so serious all the time.”

“I bet you’d be a cute drunk,” Len said.  He pressed his nose against Barry’s collar, and then his hand was on Barry’s neck and lips moved, kissing slowly, devoting time to every inch he could reach along Barry’s neck before he went back to his mouth.  

They stayed that way for awhile, Barry finding comfort in Len’s lips on his own and Len’s body moving beneath him.  Len was so _undeniably_ alive.  “I’d rather have you then a house,” Barry mumbled against Len’s mouth.

Len pulled away and grinned.  “What about me _and_ a house?” He asked.

The crack of thunder outside made Barry grin, and he moved forward quickly, pushing Len back against the mattress and then reached behind his head to pull off his shirt.  The moment he pulled it off Len was sitting up to kiss him again, but Barry gently pushed him down again.  

Len raised his eyebrow, but then he shifted.  He lay back down on the mattress, moving his left arm far over to the side, and rested his right down beside him.  Then he waited, his position almost submissive if it wasn’t for that fiercely intense look in his eye.

“Tell me what you want,” Barry said.  He grabbed the elastic of Len’s boxers and then was pulling them off.  When he got to Len’s ankles he took the socks off too, and then Barry slid his hands up Len’s thighs as he settled back over Len.

“I do like it when you’re naked,” Len said.

Barry blurred himself, and in a moment the pants and shoes he was wearing were falling to the floor and he was right back straddling Len’s legs.  “Too easy.  What next?”

“You don’t have to make up for me being injured,” Len said, “we can be normal.”

 _‘Injured’,_ Barry thought, _implies you’ll recover_.  There was no going back from what had happened to Len.  “Lenny,” Barry said, softly.

“Fine,” Len accepted.  “I want to fuck your mouth while you’re vibrating.”

That sent a rush of blood to his groin.  Barry dropped his mouth to Len’s stomach, smirking into Len’s skin.  He vibrated his mouth just a bit when he did, and the shocked gasp of breath from Len made him want to do it more.  But he crawled down, just enough to get comfortable between Len’s legs, his knees hanging off the edge of the bed.  His vibrating lips passed over Len’s soft cock, from the end to the head, and then he licked a long stripe back.

 _“Fuck,”_ Len whispered as he watched.

Barry pressed slow, sucking kisses on his cock as his lips shook, Len’s hips jolting just a bit every time his mouth touched Len’s sensitive skin.  Barry slowly took the head of Len’s cock in his mouth, tongue swirling along it once before his tongue was buzzing against him.  Len moaned, low and deep in his throat as Barry’s mouth sucked and undulated.  Barry took Len in his mouth slowly, Len still mostly soft, so Barry could fit him in his mouth easier now.  

It was so much better this time than the others, because Barry… remembered.  He knew Len liked it when he slid his mouth off and it made the ‘pop’ sound, he knew the flushed curved tip was the most sensitive, and there was a vein right under the glands that would make Len shudder.  Barry alternated between swirling, vibrating movements with his tongue and taking Len in deep, sucking hard.

Len’s right hand slowly moved to Barry’s hair, grasping it between his fingers.  With gentle urges, not enough to truly push him, Len guided Barry’s movements.  Len gasped underneath him, murmuring words Barry couldn’t quite hear, until Len was pulling him off which a shudder.

Barry shifted his weight, sitting on Len’s thigh and he took his own cock in his hand stroking slowly while admiring Len.  Len’s cheeks were red, eyes dark with lust, his cock thick, wet from Barry’s mouth and hard.  “Next,” Barry said with a smug smirk.

“I want to get on top and fuck you until you’re screaming,” Len said, a bit of an edge to his voice as he continued, “but I don’t think I can manage that yet.”

“Give me three seconds,” Barry said.  And then he was moving fast, lightning at his fingertips, grabbing the lubricant and prepping himself with his fingers.  It was more than easy to do it this way, and he didn’t want Len moving either of his hands around too much at least for a few days.  Slick fingers, a quick move in and out and then Barry confidently was coming back to normal speed.  He could see recognition in Len’s eyes the moment Barry came back into focus for him.  

“That was longer than three seconds,” Len told him, tensing when Barry slid lubricant over his shaft.

“Eh.  Superspeed.  Not an exact science.”  Barry surged forward, giving Len an awkward, rough kiss, before he was lifting himself up on his knees and grasping Len’s cock carefully.  He pressed Len against his ass.  

“This works,” Len said eyes wide with lust.

Barry lowered himself down slowly, stopping when Len was a few inches inside of him.  The sensation of being filled up familiar and good, his body craving it enough that the anticipation of what was going to happen was hardening his groin.  Barry lifted himself up, just a bit, and then came back down in a tortuously slow drop.  

Len closed his eyes, head falling back in a wordless gasp.  His right hand reached out to hold the side of Barry’s hip.

Barry leaned forward, slowly, unable to stifle the aching groan of pleasure when he did.  Len inside of him felt like a lightning rod, and his groin ached with want.  He rocked backward and forward slowly, getting used to the feeling of Len inside him.  It wasn’t long until Barry felt nothing but good, wanting more and more.  “Tell me,” Barry muttered, hand reaching out to cover the star tattoo on Len’s chest, “anything you need.”

“Need you to go faster,” Len answered.   _“Fuck,_ Barry, you feel so good.”  His hips moved, grinding upward into Barry and Barry moaned at the sensation.  

“Fuck,” Barry said, and then Len did it again, pushing up against him, a circular motion that dragged along Barry’s prostate.  Shudders ran down Barry’s arms.  Something about right now, Len inside of him, felt important.  Miraculous.  Barry almost _lost_ him.

The thought was painful, sent stinging heat to the back of Barry’s eyes and Barry moved quickly to fight against the rising emotion.  He lifted himself and then pulled down hard, letting Len fill himself to the tip before lifting up again.  He raised himself up and down repeatedly, guiding Len hard against the sensitive nerves in Barry’s body that sent his mind elsewhere.

For a long moment this was it, fast and rough, impaling himself hard on Len, burying Len’s cock deep inside of him until Barry didn’t feel complete without it.  He moved quickly, just bordering the line of too much, arching his back up into the air while he gasped at the sensation and his hips kept moving to the punishing pace.

He didn’t notice Len moving off of him until Len was just gone.  And Barry frowned, gasping while he turned.  Len slipped off the bed, muscles shaking and body looking fucking incredible.  Barry stared at him, and sat up with his knees, watching when Len lifted himself up to shaking legs.  Len stood on the side of the bed and kissed Barry hard.  

He felt Len’s hand on the back of his neck, pushing him down onto the bed, and Barry let himself be moved to the position Len had just been in.  “Turn over,” Len was saying, and Barry did.

Len’s hand guided Barry back, and Barry followed the movement wordlessly.  And then he was bent over the edge of the bed, Len’s thighs hitting the back of his own.  Len’s mouth pressed kisses along Barry’s shoulders, and his hand reached up to bury itself in Barry’s hair.  

Barry could feel Len’s cock pressed between his legs, but Len’s lips were moving to his ear, biting and tugging on his earlobe while Len’s hand fingered Barry’s hair, keeping Barry pressed down into the bed.  

Len’s voice was husky and low against Barry’s ear.  “Do you want the condom?” He asked.

Barry thought about it for a moment, turning his head just slightly to the side.  Len’s body pushed him hard into the bed, solid and good, and… _alive._  It was overwhelming and in that moment Barry wanted to forget about everything, just wanted Len to be a part of him in every single way they could manage.  “No,” Barry mumbled, _“no._  I want you to… inside of me.”  His face flushed when he couldn’t manage to get the words out right.

“You’re cute,” Len sultry voice mumbled against his ear, “you want me to cum in you? Fuck you until you’re insane.  Want me to feel you orgasm from inside?”

Barry just nodded.  Len kissed Barry’s neck once more before his hand left Barry’s hair temporarily.  Barry could feel Len’s cock pushing into him again, welcome and hard, and then Len’s hand was back in his hair.  

Len didn’t bother being slow, he slammed into Barry hard, and Barry groaned as the incredible feeling came back.  His whole body wracked with pleasure and Len drilled into him, pushing Barry down, hips moving fast and hard inside of him.  

Barry ground his hips back against Len, but any movement he could do was hindered by the relentless pounding into him.  Barry moaned, trying his best to keep his voice down, but he couldn’t stop the gasps and cries from slipping out.

It felt so _damn_ good to let go.  To stretch his arms, let Len take control and fuck him like there weren’t other days for it.  He gave himself up to the feeling, closing his eyes and letting the waves of pleasure take over him.  He gave a low moan and then felt Len’s hand sliding out of his hard, tucking under Barry’s shoulder to pull him up.  And Len’s mouth pressed hard kisses against his shoulder.

Len’s arm held him under his arm, pulling Barry up while he fucked him, and he mumbled apologies against Barry’s skin.  It took Barry a long moment for him to realize Len was trying to get him to stroke himself off.  Len’s hips didn’t stop moving, keeping up the unending thrusting like he couldn’t stop, Len mouthing his skin and gasping.

Barry gripped his shaft, supporting himself up just a bit on his elbows, and he vibrated his hand because he was too lazy to move it.  He screwed his eyes shut then, giving into feeling everything.  His body felt like it was going to explode, his hand coaxing more waves of pleasure out of him and Len keeping him right on the edge of orgasm right until the last moment that Barry was done.

He shook, entire body vibrating hard and fast and Len groaned into his ear.  Barry came in spurts, body vibrating and shaking fast, feeling his shoulders tense and release twice.  A low heat that had been sinking in his groin released into the rest of his body, and nothing but Len against him existed for the longest, most delicate moment.

Barry had to be guided back to being consciousness, with his orgasm he’d practically fallen asleep, the exhaustion in his body reaching a near breaking point.  Len was shuddering with him, face buried in the crook of Barry's shoulder.  

Barry was damn comfortable, didn’t want to move.  The rain and rumbling thunder outside almost lulling him to sleep. 

But Len was pressing soft kisses on Barry’s neck, mumbling about pancakes, and eventually Barry summoned enough energy to get up.  If only for food.

* * *

 _“Crap,”_ Barry mumbled awkwardly.  He fidgeted, shuffling his feet as he stood.  “How much longer?”

“Quiet,” Iris warned him.  The three women, Iris, Caitlin, and Shawna, were all sitting around the same bathroom.  Iris was leaning against Barry’s chest, holding his hand in her own.  Barry hadn’t understood why they wanted him to stand outside of a bathroom until Iris had opened the door and pulled him inside.  She was holding onto him for comfort.

Shawna was sitting on the sink, holding the long object in her hand and staring at it with an angry look in her face.  Caitlin had set hers on the tub next to her, and had wrapped her arms around her knees and was frowning at it.  Iris was holding her pregnancy test in one hand, not looking at it, closing her eyes and leaning against Barry as her foot tapped nervously on the ground.

Barry was here for moral support.

He had a full stomach of pancakes and some fruit, more than his fair share, and hadn’t really been awake enough to protest when Iris pulled him into a bathroom full of women.  At least Iris wanted to stand up, since Barry wasn’t… comfortable sitting down yet.

“I just couldn’t remember when my last period was. I haven't been on an IUD since we were engaged,” Caitlin said miserably, resting her chin on her knees, “I was freaking out about it when Bivolo did his… thing.  I didn’t even realize it was worrying me.   But it’s been awhile since Ronnie has been able to fly by and…” She stopped talking.

“Figured I might as well,” Shawna tried to play it off nonchalant but Barry could see through it.  “Mark and I did the pull-out method for awhile, way back in the beginning before the cult.  It was freezing and we only had some food supplies and…  I guess so much happened with zombies, the cult, and shit I didn’t even _remember_ people could get pregnant until I heard you talking about it so I- what would you do?” She asked Iris, “If it’s positive?”

Caitlin spoke first, her voice clinical.  “We’ve all been having intercourse for months.  Well, off and on for me, with limited protection because we take what we can get and… I haven’t been as careful as I should have.”  Shawna looked sheepish at that, and Iris squeezed Barry’s hand again.  “So,” Caitlin breathed out, thinking, “The pull-out method is only eighty-percent effective.  Statistically speaking, there’s a good change a minimum of one of us is pregnant given our behavior, age range, and health.”

They could be _pregnant,_ and that was a terrifying thought.  There were zombies outside, constant danger and people always trying to hurt them.  The groups had to struggle to make sure they had enough food to eat but… _pregnant._

Barry ran his free hand over his face, wishing he was in a better mental state for this. There’d been the horrible day yesterday, he’d hardly slept last night, he’d _just_ been fucked until his legs were jelly, and now had a stomach full of food and there was only _so much_ his superspeed metabolism could take before even the Flash fell asleep on his feet.

“I don’t know,” Iris said honestly.

“Ronnie isn’t even around,” Caitlin’s voice was suddenly harsh.  “We got married, Barry.  Last time he was here.  And then Ronnie was gone again on whatever mission Hal Jordan sent him, leaving me here, because he has _powers_ now and that doctor in his brain and…” She stopped again, not finishing the sentence.  

Shawna sighed, leaning back on the wall mirror.  “Do you think a baby can inherit superpowers?”

Barry’s eyes widened.   _God, I hope not._  Barry didn’t have a _clue_ but it would make more sense if the baby did then if it didn’t, right?  Hartley would probably have a better grasp on the question, but-

“Yes,” Caitlin said.  “I’m not sure to what extent, or if the powers would even match either yours or Mardon’s, but with the two of you both contributing, and the way I’ve studied powers and alleles with Barry and Ronnie’s DNA, they would.  Mine has a 50% chance.”  And then she paled.  “If… if it’s _there._  You know.”

“At least I don’t have to worry about _that,”_ Iris said nervously.  Her voice was shaking like she was about to cry and Barry squeezed her hand.  

Barry wished he wasn’t there, but then again he knew Iris needed him.  He just… wished Iris had asked Eddie to do this instead.  “So…” He said, feeling awkward about asking since Barry wasn’t a part of this at all.  Still, Shawna was normally the one who distracted the group when everyone was anxious and Barry felt like he needed to return the favor.  “If you did, and kept it… what would you name them?”

Caitlin made a strangled noise like a sob.

Shawna wiped at her eyes.  “You ever seen the movie the _Prestige?”_ She asked.

“Yes,” Barry and Iris said at the same time.  They’d seen it together in the theater, Barry remembered, it was about magicians and had Iris' favorite actor at the time as the star.

“No,” Caitlin shook her head.

“The guy teleports,” Shawna told them.  “I saw it right after I got my powers.  I don’t know.  Maybe Nikola if I keep it and it’s a boy.”

Iris took a terrified, shaking breath.  “And if it’s a girl?”

“Lashawna,” Shawna said instantly.

“Good choice,” Barry told her, and Shawna looked at him with a pained look somewhere between wanting to laugh and cry in terror.  Barry was suddenly enormously glad he was in a relationship with a man and not a woman right now.  He had no idea how he’d handle the possibility of his girlfriend being pregnant, or fiancé in Iris’ case, or wife in Caitlin’s. _Damn._ Could there even be a place for a baby in this world anymore?  How would they take care of it? Keep it safe?

“Barry,” Iris said, looking up at Barry from her position.  She had a serious look on her face.

“Yeah,” Barry asked.

“That’s it,” Iris said with a nod.  “I’ve always liked Dawn too, I guess.”

“Would we all keep it?  I mean, we do have alternatives.  We could get an abortion,” Shawna reminded them.

Caitlin nodded.  “It might be a good idea since without knowing if we’re safe, or how we’d deal medically when the time comes, I mean, that is something we should keep in mind.”

Barry’s forehead furrowed in confusion as he thought.  “Wait… like, _Barry_ or Dawn?  As in, naming after me?” He asked.

Iris laughed, just a bit.  “Yeah, Bear.”  She squeezed Barry’s hand again, her eyes glancing back at the pregnancy test.  “I don’t think I would have an abortion myself,” Iris said, “I just feel… if it’s mine and Eddie’s than I would still want to try.  And now that you’re here, Barry, with the rest of the Rogues I mean we… we have _metahumans,_ and people used to living on the run I just… we’re in a much better position than if this happened a few months ago.”

Caitlin ran her hands over her shirt again.  “I don’t know,” she said honestly.  “If Ronnie can’t stay with me I just… I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Iris told her, “we don’t have to decide now.  We’re not even sure if any of us are.”

“Oh _man,”_ Barry thought aloud, because the anxiety was killing him.  He didn’t want to be here, but _had_ to be here because Iris asked- he couldn’t handle this.  The anxiousness.  Did women do this every month?   _Crap,_ this was nerve-wracking and Barry felt like he hadn't had a rest for forty-eight hours straight.

Shawna snorted with amusement. “Is this hard for you, _Flash?”_

“You- you’re the ones who asked me to come here,” Barry defended.  Iris patted his arm comfortably.  “How much longer?”

“Only a few minutes,” Caitlin said, looking at her hands, “it’s measuring the hCG.  It might not be completely accurate because I’ve lost track of dates, no one knows their cycles.  We’re doing it early, at least, so that’s going to help.  If any of us have something accurate we should try to see if we can do a blood test.  We should do this every week too.  I doubt we’ll find a shortage of pregnancy tests on the road.”  Talking seemed to help calm her down.

“Birth control expires after around three years,” Shawna said suddenly, “condoms expire too.  One day we’re not going to have any no matter where we look.”

 _“Fuck,”_ Barry whispered under his breath.

Iris laughed at him.  “Barry, you can’t get pregnant with Len,” she reminded him.

“But _you_ can get pregnant,” Barry said nervously, “don’t you remember all those tv shows about twenty-seven children plus nineteen and counting or-”

“Barry, _no,”_ Iris laughed, nervous, “you’re being the _opposite_ of supportive.”  She nudged Barry’s side again and joked, “Do you honestly think I’d have _twenty-seven_ children?  What would we even do with twenty-seven children?  I’d have to give half to you.  _And_ we’d name probably eight of them _‘Barry’_ and _‘Iris’_ which would be very confusing.”

Caitlin gasped, staring at her pregnancy test.

Shawna’s eyes widened considerably as she leaned forward looking at Caitlin’s shock.  “Is that bad? What’s going on, what’s the news?”  Iris’ hand tightened on Barry’s.  

Caitlin smiled as tension dropped from her shoulders.  “I’m not pregnant.  Not according to this.”

“Was Caitlin first?” Barry asked, not sure exactly how this, or even pregnancy tests, worked.

Shawna took a shaky breath.  “No.”  She moved her head, tapping her boots on the cupboard under the sink as she swung her legs.  Shawna stared at the pregnancy test for a long moment before looking up.  She crossed her arms, a long frown over her face.  

“What’s the result?” Caitlin asked; her own smile faded as she saw the dread on Shawna’s.

Shawna shook her head.  It took her a long moment to reply.   _“Positive,”_ she said curtly, looking away.

“Are you-” Caitlin started to ask.

Shawna interrupted harshly, “I don’t want to talk about it.”  She frowned for a long moment, and then turned, looking over at the window in the wall.  “I’m going for a walk,” Shawna said.  And then in an instant there was nothing in Shawna’s place but smoke that dissipated quickly and left nothing there. 

Barry felt a pang of guilt when he remembered there was a thunderstorm outside, and he hoped Shawna came back in quickly.

“I’m sorry,” Caitlin started to say.

She was interrupted again when Iris jumped up to her feet.  Iris slammed her hand against Barry’s wrist repeatedly, eyes wide, and then she turned around to face Barry.  She was grinning, ear to ear, the bit of sadness in her eyes unable to compete with the happiness filling her up.  “I’m _pregnant,”_ Iris said, rushed and excited.  She wrapped her arms tightly around Barry’s neck and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TONS of love and thanks to RedHead, my fandom spouse, for helping me figure out this chapter, beta-ing a hard scene for me, and also writing the most amazing story ever like 73 Seconds is too amazing. 
> 
> Also, coldflashtrash on tumblr (those w tumblrs, follow that blog if you aren't already) you rock, you are amazing I love your comments, drabbles, even the half-lame-half-awesome playlist, but Len is not going to get a spatula hand. No. Even though I spent about twenty minutes crying with laughter imagining it... no.
> 
> These past two chapters both invoke major change, it's getting to that point in the story; life in the apocalypse continues but the way we imagine life is changed due to the reality of the world around them.


	29. Day 5, Central City

The rest of that day passed in a blur. Barry went out to get the blue cloth and threw it over the bed, when he came back someone found board games (while giving Bivolo food, apparently, as the man was still locked up downstairs) and Mick had gladly dug into Eddie’s groups’ supply of beer.  Iris baked brownies because apparently eggs weren’t that necessary an ingredient and there was still a good amount of flour, sugar, and cocoa powder in the world.

The tired feeling continued the whole day, making him pretty compliant and not very good at Monopoly.  Len seemed to have a little more strength, maybe the pain keeping him awake.  Wherever Len went Barry followed him, moving from one group to another, trying to ignore the emotional exhaustion but eventually giving into it.  

There was a haze of food, good natured chatting, candles lighting tables as rain poured steadily outside.  Barry caught the occasional bright grin from Iris and a finger to her lips in a ‘shush’ motion, saw Caitlin giving Shawna a hug, there was a miserable look in Hartley’s eye even when he was winning Backgammon, but all of it was too much for Barry to handle.  His every single cell was _spent,_ the past twenty-four hours a hellish attack on his emotions and Barry needed a break from caring.

He had long memories of him and Len playing poker, trying to perfect their art of playing together and failing badly, Barry holding the cards and Len pointing at him, Len sitting against the couch on the floor and Barry resting against his chest.  Tired.  The constant rain on the windows a drumbeat that lulled Barry in and out of a restless, sleeping state.

The fourth time he’d nodded off, Len had given up trying to keep him awake.  They stumbled up to their bedroom and fell asleep curled up on the blue cloth that was still meant to be the curtain.

* * *

They slept until late afternoon the next day.  Len suffered through changing his bandages again and then laid out some plans for what the group would do tomorrow.  He needed local maps and prison designs from city hall, if possible, better weapons and ammunition for which Len gave up the location of an old safe house, and more gasoline for the cars.  

Then Barry and Len went to sleep again after a pasta dinner someone had made.  Somehow, even the long night from before hadn’t restored enough.

But when Barry woke up the following day, he felt almost normal again.

* * *

“Presenting,” James Jesse announced as the group walked up to the courthouse, “the merriest band of zombie-killers in existence!”

His voice echoed down the street, and he jumped onto a dead plant, one of the many that heralded the steps.  Jumping on rows and rows of architecture and design that once mattered, James Jesse steadily ignored the designs and the way his loud tones reverberated through the empty space.  Jumping from the side of the plant, he seemed to almost hover in the air before touching down.  The courthouse doors were slightly pulled open, the large wooden doors that stood high over their heads, and James leaned against one with a wave of his arms.

“Allow me to introduce us,” he said, gesturing wildly to the four people still walking up the steps.  “James J. Trickster! Soo-per-geenn-yus!” He pointed his thumb to himself, then to Caitlin.  “Madam of the frosty smile, doctor-love of Firestorm,” then to Barry, “the most clothed man ever to be called the Streak,” to Len, who was glaring at him, “our King! Our leader! Our triumphant Captain of this hallow storm! The oat in our boat! The ick in our prick-”

“What does that mean?” Len grumbled to himself.  

“And finally,” James Jesse said, pointing his finger almost accusingly at Hartley as the piper lagged behind the others, “Mr. Loves-rats-and-hates-boobs himself, the one and the only idiot in a poncho _I know_ , Mr. Rat-a-tat-tat, rootin’ tootin-”

A blast of ice shot toward the courthouse door, narrowly missing James Jesse’s head.  The trickster, as he liked to call himself, frowned and shuddered at the sudden influx of cold.  He glared at Leonard, who was blowing at the icy cool air steaming from the top of his gun.  “Huh,” James Jesse said, frowning and pulling his orange and blue jacket up around his shoulders, “you got such a winning personality, _Cold._  How is it you’re the only one here getting laid on the regular?”

James Jesse pushed hard on the courthouse door and opened it enough for everyone to get through single file.  

Len raised an eyebrow at him, walking through the doors with a smug look on his face.  “In case you think I forgot, I do remember that little speech you gave me when we met not too long ago.”

“Can you blame a pretty guy like me for covering his ass?  The ratio of dick-lovers to not in your little party was a bit… weird,” James Jesse said.

“What?” Barry asked, frowning as he walked past James Jesse.  Caitlin followed right behind him, and James Jesse gave her a look that Caitlin felt necessary to meet with a glare.  

The inside of the courthouse was dark, hard to see.  Barry could still make out the high ceilings, marble floors and long hallways far beyond him.  They had to make it down to the records room, Len said what he needed would be there.

“He was afraid the three of us would sneak into his bunk and gang up on him in the old fashioned prison-style,” Len replied, with an amused look back at James as the trickster and Hartley came through the door.  Len wasn’t wearing his parka, but he had a thick blue hoodie on, one that started whiter at the top and faded to dark blue.  The goggles were around his neck, but his left arm held up in a sling and pressed tightly onto his chest.  His right hand held the cold gun, calm confidence in his face as if nothing had ever happened.

Hartley had his hood pulled up over his face, his hair falling down near his eyes and he looked at Barry with a clenched jaw.  His gaze looked angry and worried.  

“What does that even mean?” Barry asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

“He thought we’d try to fuck him,” Len clarified.  He looked down the large, empty entranceway until he pointed down one direction.  “That leads to the records room?”

“Yes,” Caitlin said.  She seemed annoyed and her eyes went to James Jesse in another glare that seemed rather familiar for the both of them.  They did have almost two whole months of surviving together.  “James, you are _absolutely_ insufferable.”

James Jesse shrugged like that didn’t matter to him.  “I _know_ how pretty I am.”

Hartley caught Barry’s eye again, and he made a gesture with his head to Len.  Barry frowned, confused and not sure what Hartley was trying to ask.

“You’re disgusting,” Caitlin told him.  She rolled her eyes and then started walking toward the hallway Len had pointed out.  She and Len moved first, because Hartley kept trying to gesture to Len without using his hands, Barry didn’t know what Hartley was doing, and James Jesse was frowning at the two of them.

“Are you three coming?” Len asked, looking at them with a curious expression.

“Let the record show that I don’t feel comfortable in this group,” James Jesse announced, swaggering over to the staircase.  “’Cept with the sexy doctor here.”  He was the first one out of sight.

“In a minute,” Barry told Len.  Len nodded, accepting that, and he and Caitlin followed down the staircase after James.  

In am moment, it was just Barry and Hartley alone in the wide open entrance of the courthouse.  Light streamed from the stained window at the top, half of it was broken, and Barry wished he felt comfortable next to Hartley.  He didn’t want this awkwardness between them, though since Iris and Barry were back to normal he figured… time would fix it.  

Hartley took a step _forward_ so Barry took a step _back_ and crossed his arms over his chest.

Hartley frowned.  “I learned my lesson from last time, Bartholomew,” he said, “I’m not going to try anything.”

“I know.”  Barry looked toward the staircase.  “That James is a bit of a douchebag.”

“He’s right about being pretty though,” Hartley offered.

“So…” Barry asked.  He looked at Hartley with apprehension and… of course Barry wasn’t worried Hartley would kiss him again, but he was worried Hartley would say something to make the rift between them even worse.  Or to make Barry have to reject Hartley all over again.

“I have to tell Cold,” Hartley said.

Nevermind.   _That_ was worse.  “Do you have a _deathwish?”_ Barry asked.

Hartley’s eyes widened.  “Do you think he’ll kill me?  As in, actually kill me?  Because I know he’s murdered people before and frankly I have been worried since day one that he’ll try to kill me for like, sneaking a peek when we were sharing a cell.”

“What?” Barry glared.

Harley looked at the ceiling and sighed.  “It was a tiny room.  We had one small bucket.”

“You _looked_ at me when I was-”

“I refuse to apologize for where my eyes were naturally inclined to go,” Hartley said into the air.

 _“Why?_ What is remotely attractive about a-”

“I haven’t had action in _months-”_

“I was using a bucket!”

“A penis is a penis, alright-”

_“Still.”_

“I just needed to know what your penis looked like so later I could-”

Barry dropped his head into his hands.   _“Please,_ do not tell me anymore.”

Hartley looked sheepish.  “Look I just want to ask you a favor.”

“That’s rich,” Barry frowned at him.

“I need to know when is the best time to… let Cold know.  When he’s least likely to strangle me,” Hartley said, leaning forward with a grimace on his face, “or freeze my balls off.”

“Or we could just not tell Len.  Ever.”  Barry pointed out, “You were the one who asked me not to tell him.”

“And if he _does_ find out,” Hartley said seriously, “if he figures it out because, let’s face it, he might not have a solid education but he’s sort of a genius, how do you think he’ll react to the news that we kissed and never told him about it?  That will look a little suspicious.”

“What? How?” Barry blinked.

“It would look like we’d been sleeping around?” Hartley explained, aggravated, “And Shawna said if I don’t want to ‘get my ass thrown to the zombies’ I should probably explain sooner than later.”

“Len _knows_ I’m not sleeping around,” Barry said without thinking, “We have sex every day; we had sex the morning you kissed me.  I’d never sleep with-”  Hartley looked sick and Barry stopped with wide eyes.  “I’m sorry.  Hartley.  I didn’t… crap.  I didn’t mean that.  Well I did… I did mean it.  But I didn’t.”

“Just shut up,” Hartley said to the ceiling.

“You know,” Barry said, feeling guilty, “I was in love with Iris for almost all of my life.  She was everything to me, no matter what I did or who I was with I’d always find some way to think about her.”

“I don’t care,” Hartley growled but he didn’t move away.  

“It hurt every time she was with someone else, because it felt like we were stuck in some loop, chasing each other and not chasing each other.  Like the universe couldn’t stop changing its mind.  And Iris and I…” Barry took a deep breath, feeling strange saying it out loud.  “We were supposed to get married, once upon a time.  Harrison Wells was from the future, he knew, but he came into my life when I was a child and changed things.”

“I get it,” Hartley said, looking at Barry with anger, “so you could never love me because you’re in love with Iris?”

“I’m in love with _Len,”_ Barry corrected, “because I got over Iris.  She’s my best friend and maybe it would have worked out between us in another life but it didn’t in this one.  She has Eddie, who adores her, and I have Len-”

“Who adores you,” Hartley finished.  He sighed and looked at the ground.  “You’re not understanding me,” he said in a tone like he was speaking to a child, “I went out on a limb for you and I did not come out the victor.  I’m not competing with Captain Cold here.  I’m saving my ass by getting a hold on this situation before the inevitable comes.  It was just a kiss.”  He flickered his eyes to meet Barry’s.  “Neither of us want him incorrectly assuming it was anything more.”

The voice that interrupted them was definitely female.  “Is this a bad time to say they’re waiting for you two downstairs?” Caitlin asked, looking at the scene with wide eyes.

Barry’s mouth dropped.  “Uh…  Caitlin, this is not what it-”

“It’s not my business,” Caitlin said, raising her hands.  She backed away through the doorway again.  “We just need you, Barry, to find the files.”

“I-” Barry said.

“Nope.  Don’t want to know.  Do _not._ Want to know,” Caitlin insisted.  “I’m already freaking out about having to launch an attack on a death-prison that might be full of zombie-soldiers.  I don’t need more stress.”

“At least you’re not pregnant,” Barry said with an apologetic grin.

A bit of a smile came to Caitlin’s face and she nodded.  “At least I’m not pregnant,” she repeated.

“Now, am I missing something?” Hartley asked, waggling his finger between the two of them.   “ _À raconter ses maux, souvent on les soulag_ e.”

“Not your business,” Caitlin told him curtly.

* * *

“So… you need a file?” Barry asked, stepping into the records room.

Oh god, it was a _mess._  It looked like a gorilla had run through there on a rampage, there were cabinets pushed against each other, papers on the floor, and all sorts of files opened and ransacked.  Barry couldn’t think of what _anyone_ in an ordinary situation could want during the apocalypse from the r _ecords room_ in the Central City municipal building.  But here it was, illuminated by the flashlights in Caitlin and James’ hands, the large, maze-like room more like a trashpit.

“You’re the only one with a hope of searching this before we all die of old age,” Len said.  He was leaning against the wall, face a bit pale and lip curled in a grimace but he wasn’t complaining.  Barry could see though, from the way that Len tensed up his left shoulder, that he was trying to keep weight off of it.

Barry felt dread when he looked at Len.  Len was already in pain, coming clean about what Hartley had done- and Barry lying about it, wasn’t going to do anything to relieve that.  

He stepped closer to Len, brushed his hand along Len’s shirt.  Len grabbed Barry’s wrist with his right hand and lifted it up to his mouth.  He gave Barry’s hand a quick kiss before letting go.

 _Fuck,_ Barry did not want Len mad at him.  In no universe, in no world, did he want to have to see Len mad at him.  It was selfish and unrealistic to assume he and Len could forever live in some honeymooning, blissful state but it was their time together, the escape that accompanied it, that made what he and Len had so much more intense.  

Barry took a deep breath, moved closer to put his arms around Len and rest his head on Lens chest.

James cleared his throat, an obnoxious interruption.

Len kissed the top of Barry’s head and then pushed him gently away.  “Let’s get the file,” he said, his voice not hiding his annoyance.  Len glared at James.

The two men connected eyes for a moment and Barry wondered if this outing to the municipal building was going to end in two murders.  “What am I looking for?” Barry asked, and the two men looked at him instead.  

“We need a map of the surrounding area.  The municipal building should have some records of costs, receipts for transactions and costs they’ve made in terms of repairs to Iron Heights,” Len said, crossing his right hand to his shoulder to tug on the sling.  

“Why would we need that? You interested in some accounting while trying not to die,” James Jesse scoffed.

“The receipts will tell us which archeology firm did redesigns or even the original planning for the prison,” Len explained, nonchalant, “we know who did that, we can find that office.  The designs will show us a way in.  We know that for one reason or another no one who has left for the prison has come back and so we prepare for the worst.”

“Huh,” Barry said, looking at Len with appreciation.  Caitlin and Hartley were just walking through the door, and Barry tried his hardest not to look at Hartley.  He could feel, somehow, the presence of Hartley next to him.  Barry didn’t like secrets.  They just seemed to follow him and cling to him like flies to ultraviolet light.

“You been to a lot of prisons,” James Jesse asked, seeming impressed.

“One of my many specialties,” Len said, not able to resist adding in a smug tone, “I’m known for a lot of things.”

“That’s true, I had heard of you before,” James admitted.  “Your sister too.  Your reputation is…”

“What’s his ‘reputation’?” Barry asked, curious as he looked between James and Leonard.  Len narrowed his eyes with interest and waited for James to reply.

James just shrugged.  “When someone wants something done in a really dramatic fashion,” he said, “I worked for someone who hired you once, a circus, anyway- they said that it has to be explicitly stated in a contract that Leonard Snart doesn’t bring in his own team since whenever he does things get messy.”

“Mick is a factor impossible to control,” Len acknowledged, “Lisa is either violent or obsessed with the aesthetic of a job.  They just make it more interesting.”

“Didn’t you once light fire to the Russian mob’s opera house?” James asked, looking amused.

“Mick did.  A distraction while I cracked a safe.  That wasn’t a job,” Len said, “that was blackmail.”

“Blackmail?” Barry asked, not happy about that.

Len shook his head.  “Everyone has something on everyone else in this business.  It gives us a balance so one kingpin doesn’t get stronger than the other.  It’s not very useful now, though it makes poker nights interesting.”

James gave Len a smirk.  “What did they have on you?”

Len snorted.  “I have no secrets.”

“I’m sorry but,” Caitlin said, waving her flashlight at the ceiling.  “Shouldn’t Barry be looking for the files we need?”

“One second,” Barry said to her, giving Caitlin an apologetic look.  She rolled her eyes, pursing her lips at him as her foot tapped on the floor.  She obviously didn’t want to spend too much extra time in the building.  

Barry couldn’t blame her, with no lights, at the basement floor of the building; it felt like they were in a cave.  The claustrophobic feeling was uncomfortable when their lives were plagued by that constant threat of danger.

“I’ve only done one job with a circus,” Len said.  “Maybe I do remember you.”  

“Len,” Barry said, and Len looked at him instantly, snapping to attention.  “How do I know when I’ve found what I’m looking for?”

“No idea,” Len said honestly.  “That’s why we needed you on this one.”

Barry grimaced.  “So… everything.  You need me to look through everything in this room.”

“I’ve saw you read _Carrie_ in twenty seconds,” Len said, apologetic, “sorry, Scarlet.  I have no other ideas.”

Barry sighed.

It took thirty minutes.  Running, reading until everything blurred into one and Barry was stuck with his eyes swimming, only focused on trying to find the words ‘ _Iron Heights_ ’.  Anything slightly important he dropped outside of the room where Len, James, Caitlin and Hartley shuffled through it.  Thirty minutes for Barry to push every single cabinet and file in the entire records room to one side of the floor.  

Thirty minutes of utter boredom.  

No one, no one in the _world,_ would ever find the crap in that room interesting.  When Barry was done he slammed the door shut at such a velocity that part of the wood cracked.

“That’s _it,”_ he announced, pissed and angry.  The small pile of papers and documents he’d found hardly seemed worth the numbers and droll swimming in his brain.

“Thank you,” Len said, genuine.  He set his right hand down to pull himself to his feet, and Barry automatically went to his side, tugging up with his shoulder to help him stand.  

“Tell me some of this will be helpful,” Barry asked.

“We’ll have to look through it later,” James Jesse said.  He picked up a number of the papers and Caitlin did too.  Hartley didn’t, his arms were folded over each other and he hadn’t said anything in awhile that Barry could recall.

Len wasn’t… acting like Hartley had told him yet.  

“Hopefully everyone else had luck,” Caitlin nodded, moving over to the stairs. 

James Jesse stepped quickly in front of her, his hands on his weapon.  Caitlin glared at him, offended by that for some reason, but let James walk first.    
James Jesse was the one person in the group that Barry didn’t know at all.  He realized that he needed to get to know the man better if they were working together; today was the first day he’d learned anything about the other man.  To be honest, Barry didn’t like anything about James yet.

Hartley gave Barry a look that Barry couldn’t interpret and made a move toward the steps and then stopped.

Barry’s eyes widened.  

“Can you give us a minute?” Hartley asked, hand tightening on the stair railing as he looked at Caitlin.

Caitlin frowned.  “You’re going to leave me with this jerk?” She sighed.  Her eyes went to Barry and Barry tried to shake his head, mentally tell her _Please, do not leave,_ but she shrugged and kept walking.  “We’ll scream if anything happens,” Caitlin told them, “we’ll wait by the door.”

Hartley stared up the staircase, the hood wrapped around his face as he waited for the sound of steps on stairs to stop.  His knuckles were white on the stair railing, one foot up on a step like he was prepared to run, but the door to the main floor eventually swung close with a soft bang and then it was just the three of them.

Barry’s heartbeat was in his ears.

“What _exactly_ is going on?” Len asked, voice drawling.  He took a slow step away from Barry, leaning up against the side of the railing with his right arm holding himself steady.

“Shawna told me- and I felt I should-” Hartley began to say.  His hands suddenly went to the flute on his side, a motion at his shoulder that had to be Antoinette, and then Hartley dropped his hands to his sides with a pained look on his face.  “It is essential to my furthering involvement in this group,” Hartley said, bracing himself and then looking Len in the eye, “for full-disclosure.”

“This involves Barry?” Len asked.  His gaze didn’t leave Hartley.  

Hartley seemed intimidated with the full force of Len’s attention on him, but he steeled himself and continued.  “I manipulated my friendship with Barry and I want to apologize-”

“Hartley, you didn’t manipulate,” Barry interrupted, “we were just talking.”

Hartley took a deep, shaking breath.  “Anyway, before you kill me-”

“Why should I want to kill you?” Len asked with his voice eerily calm.

“I kissed Barry,” Hartley said.

Len’s face was blank.  Barry couldn’t tell if Len was angry or upset, though the emotions tended to go hand in hand.  He wanted to reach out to touch Len again but didn’t, crossing his arms over his chest instead.  

“When?” Len asked.

Hartley swallowed.  “Two days ago.”

Len’s eyes moved to Barry sharply, so quick Barry flinched.  “Two days ago,” Len repeated.

“He asked me not to tell,” Barry defended, “I didn’t want you being angry at him.   _Nothing_ happened, Len.”

“Why did you wait two days to tell me?” Len said.  Barry didn’t know if the question was directed to him or Hartley so he was more than relieved when Hartley answered.

“I didn’t want to be murdered.” Hartley took a step back on the stairs.  He looked ready to bolt.

“You told Barry to lie to me?” Len said, slowly, like he was contemplating something deeply important, his brain overactive between the words.

“Yes,” Hartley said.

“You kissed Barry and then you asked him to lie to me about it and you eventually decide to come to me and tell me but only when Barry is here as a witness,” Len clarified.

“Yes,” Hartley said again.

“You think Barry being here will prevent me from beating your fucking ass,” Len said calmly.

“Len,” Barry warned.  He took a step between the two.

Hartley’s eyes widened and his hand was moving slowly to his side.  “You want to try that with one hand?”

“Hartley!” Barry glared at him with wide eyes.  “ _No one_ is fighting here.   _Especially_ not about me.  Look, Len,” Barry said, pleading with him, “I told Hartley it wouldn’t work out and we are just friends.”

Len’s eyes flickered to Hartley’s, raising an eyebrow as he frowned at him.  “You must be an idiot if you missed the fact Barry and I are together.”

Hartley looked confused for a moment and then he glared.

 _Fuck,_ Barry thought.

“I’m _not_ an ‘idiot’,” Hartley growled.

“So you knew Barry and I were together,” Len clarified unnecessarily.

“Of course he knew,” Barry said to Len, annoyed and nervous.  His body was tensed, ready to stop the two of them from fighting.

“Fine.”  Len gave Hartley a smile.  “You let me know.  ‘Full disclosure’, as you said.”

Hartley stared at Len’s smile, looking as nervous as a man being led to an execution.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” Len asked.  His voice was almost sweet.

“Yes,” Hartley seemed to close in on himself.

“Then let’s go,” Len said.  He pushed himself up off the railing and walked up to the stairs.  When he moved part Hartley, Hartley winced in anticipation for a fight that didn’t come.  Len pushing himself up on the stairs, right hand helping him to walk.  He didn’t look back at Barry.

Barry wasn’t sure if Len and him were in trouble or if Len was really as nonchalant about what Hartley did as he was acting.  

Hartley took a breath of relief.  “So…” he said, gesturing to the stairs, “after you, Barry.”

Len turned so fast even Barry’s superspeed almost didn’t catch it.  He moved down the stairs fast, retracing his steps, and his fist collided into Hartley’s face.

Hartley fell to the ground, glasses sliding off, hands reaching up to protect his shoulders and keep him from landing on Antoinette.  Hartley looked up, staring, and he crawled backward quickly on the floor away from Len.

Barry couldn’t think to say anything.

“You try any shit like that again,” Len said, his eyes dark and face stiff with rage, “while Barry is with _me,_ and you will not survive this apocalypse, _Rathaway.”_

Hartley breathed quick and short.  Looking like he was going to run fast.

 _“Barry,”_ Len said Barry’s name like he was invoking a curse, “are you alright?”

“Yes,” Barry said.  He couldn’t think of anything else to say.  There was something… weird in his chest.  Thoughts he couldn’t quite understand.

Len wiped his right hand along his mouth, turning his gaze to stare at Hartley with loathing.  He didn’t move for a moment, standing still and looking like any movement from the other man would spark that unbridled rage.  Len’s cool exterior was entirely slipped away and Hartley paled under the absolute ferociousness of Len’s rage.   _“Barry_ and I,” Len said, voice deep and rumbling while he watched Hartley, “are going to talk later.  In _our_ bedroom.” Len snapped, “You _idiotic_ shit.”

“Leave him alone, Lenny,” Barry said softly.  He took a step forward and then reached his hands up to Len’s face, fingers brushing along the hard-set lines on Len’s forehead and mouth.  “C’mon.  We have to bring the files back to the others.”

Len looked like he wanted to kiss Barry, but he stepped away instead.  Barry hadn’t noticed until his hands were touching him, but Len was shaking and sweating.

It had only been a few days since the bite; Len was still in so much pain and… Barry wished this hadn’t come up at all.  He wished so much Hartley could have just let the both of them forget what happened or never have don’t it in the first place.

Barry had confessed his love to Iris once.  Eddie had punched Barry in the face for it.  

The feelings were much more complicated on this side of the equation.  Barry almost wished he could have been the one getting punched again, because actually seeing Hartley on the floor looking miserable, and knowing that this was hurting Len, was so much worse than just a punch in the face.

“Len,” Barry said carefully.

Len stepped away from him and started walking up the stairs again.  His voice was a low drawl as he said, “Let’s move on.  Air’s frigid here.”  The look he gave Barry as he walked away was a smirk with fading out anger in his eyes, replaced with nothing.  

* * *

Lisa and Mick were already at the house when Barry came back.  The dining room tables were covered in weapons, obviously non-illegal, the barcodes and identification had been scratched off them but that sort of thing didn’t matter.

Len, Caitlin, and James took the plans from the municipal building over to the other building where Eddie would be.  Barry hadn’t volunteered to go, mumbling about a headache, and since the entire group just… had to be able to sense the awkward, tense silence between him, Len, and Hartley, no one asked him to go with.

Mick and Lisa were organizing the weapons into sections, Lisa with a notepad and Mick counting out ammunition when Barry stepped into the room.

Barry glanced behind him, glad Hartley had gone… Barry had no idea where Hartley had gone, but Hartley hadn’t followed Barry into the house.  No one else was there; Shawna and Mark would still be out getting gasoline with Cisco so he could take some comfort in being alone.

“What’s up?” Lisa asked, checking something on her clipboard.

Barry felt a bit sick.  Didn’t know what exactly to say.  Lisa and Mick would know what Len was feeling, right?  And the three of them had grown closer lately and Barry couldn’t…

Barry didn’t answer right away, so both Lisa and Mick stopped what they were doing to look at Barry with a frown.  

“Kid?” Mick asked, gruff and curious.

“Len.” Barry said.  He crossed his arms over his chest and then uncrossed them.  Then he reached up to rub his hand on his forehead.

“You two have a fight?” Lisa wondered.  Barry didn’t say anything in response to that and Lisa’s face melted into a sympathetic pout.  “Aw, Barry, honey.”  She dropped the clipboard and opened her arms to welcome Barry into a hug.

Barry didn’t, frowning at her.  And then Lisa stepped forward anyway and wrapped her arms around Barry anyway.  “Little cutie,” Lisa crooned, “Len can be a jerk.”

“Stop,” Barry said.  He pushed her away.

“Why?” Mick asked.  The pyromaniac, dressed in dark greys and overalls, leaned against the table full of stolen weapons, thick muscles rippling and he looked at Barry with a strangely caring smile.  

It was… Barry had gone to Lisa Snart and Mick Rory before anyone else.  He realized that with a start, blinking and wondering exactly what that could mean.  

Lisa ran her hand down Barry’s cheek.  “Do you want me to talk to him?” She asked, sympathetic.

Barry ran his hands over his face again, thinking.  “I don’t know.”

“Maybe the four of us should have a sit down,” Lisa offered.  She raised her chin and gestured for Mick to come closer.  He shrugged and did, and then Lisa stood up on her toes and put her arm around Mick’s shoulders.  “Lenny can’t say no to all three of us,” Lisa said, leaning forward like it was a secret.  She held her hand out for Barry to take.  

Barry sighed and did.  Lisa clasped Barry’s hand tightly in his.  “I just don’t know what to do.”

“When he’s mad at me I leave him to cool off,” Mick said, looking over at the other side of the room.

“We’re a family now,” Lisa said in a sing-song voice, leaving no room for either Mick or Barry to protest.  “Lenny’s mad at Barry and it’s our job, Mick,” she said, grinning at the pyromaniac who refused to look at her, “to make Lenny happy again.” Barry sighed again.  He leaned against Lisa’s shoulder and Lisa pulled him tight.  “It’ll be okay,” Lisa mumbled against Barry’s forehead.

“I fucked up,” Barry admitted, feeling miserable admitting that out loud.

“That’s the beauty of this family,” Lisa announced sweetly, “we’re all fuck-ups.”

* * *

Lisa magically got Len to come back to the house alone.  When Len entered the room, Mick instantly handed him a beer and then the four of them moved to the parlor to sit on the couches.  Mick looked more comfortable about the whole scenario with a beer in his hand.  He sat on the couch across from Len, and Barry sat next to him.

Lisa pulled Len to sit facing Mick and Barry, holding his right arm in her hands.  She pouted up at Len with an obvious, manipulating tactic that still had Len relaxing somehow.  Lisa’s presence and grip on Len’s arm just melted out the anger in Len’s face.

 _He really loves her,_ Barry noticed.  

“Barry is sad,” Lisa oozed sympathy.  She rubbed her chin on Len’s arm and Len sighed, rolling his eyes at her behavior.  “If we’re going to be heading off to take out zombie-prison, no one should be upset, Lenny.”

Barry looked at his hands, rubbing his wrists awkwardly to give himself something to do.  Tension was building up in his chest, to the point where it stung.  A mix of guilt and that… other emotion.

“I just got pissed off,” Len said to the ceiling.

Barry was surprised Len was actually talking about it, even opening up.  Maybe Lisa was right, Len really had a weakness for all the people in this room.

 _Of course he does,_ Barry thought to himself, annoyed that the revelation had come as a surprise.  Len’s little sister, best friend, and boyfriend? Lisa was _right,_ somehow.  Len had known it, telling Barry that Barry was a part of his ‘Rogues’, but that was some metaphor, a placeholder.  They were more like a family than anything else.

Barry stood up before he realized it, moving to the other side of the couch.  He sat next to Len, wanting to put his arm around him but Barry was on Len’s left side with the injury.  So he pushed he feet over to the side, and then leaned his head down, resting against Len’s thigh.

Barry could feel Len let out a sigh of relief.  Barry closed his eyes, hands reaching up to touch Len’s leg and he breathed gently, complacent in feeling Len against him.  

“I love you, Barry,” Len said quietly.  

Lisa’s voice was genuine when she said, “I love you too, Barry.”

There was a long, comfortable pause. Then Mick Rory grumbled angrily, “Stop looking at me, Lisa.  I ain’t gunna say it.”

Barry laughed out loud, could feel Len start to shake with laughter underneath him, and pretty soon Lisa’s voice joined with her loud and uncontrolled giggles filling up the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French translation:  
> “A problem shared is a problem halved.” – Hartley to Caitlin


	30. Iron Heights – Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upcoming chapters will be a bit heavy on the horror theme. tw: lots of mention of zombies; some claustrophobia; darkness
> 
> These chapters will include some DC villains that people may or may not be familiar with, no prior knowledge of them is needed (just like with DeVoe) they'll be explained in the story.

_After midnight, 2nd day in the prison_

Everything felt sickly and wet.  Barry could hardly see to turn his head, and then it was only because he heard a voice moaning at his side.  His stomach hurt, queasy and wrong like he was carsick, and Barry opened his mouth to take deep breaths but it was difficult.  Something over Barry’s mouth restricted him and the air shuddered into his lungs, stale and difficult.

Barry could hear the sound of his own mouth gasping for breath, whatever was over his face was by his ears too.  The groans from beside him sounded too even and still to be human.  Whoever was next to him moaned like their throat was dead, the sound more like the whistle of wind around trees than a human voice.  

There was a zombie close by. It was close enough which even through the bindings on his face Barry could hear it breathe.  The thought was almost victorious, but Barry couldn’t remember why.  “He-” _Hello,_ he was trying to say, but the taste of plastic on his mouth and the dryness in his throat made him erupt into coughing fits.  It hurt; and his body felt weak.  Barry needed to eat something; he could tell that right away, his hands were starting to shake.

 _“Ooooooooooo,”_ came a voice from the side, something gravely and low at a forced high pitched tone, and it felt… wrong.  Everything about that voice felt wrong.

Barry pulled at his arms and legs, realizing quickly he was trapped in a chair.  His body was aching, from the pain on his throat and something on his chest, and the lack of energy.  The bonds were soft but still holding him stiff to a barely cushioned bed, but the air around him smelled like… a doctor’s office?

It was _hot._  Ever since the rain had come, breaking the spell of cold weather, the world had been light, airy, but comfortably chill and yet now Barry felt like he was in a sauna and… maybe that was just his face.  His face was sweating, he could taste it in his mouth, feel it running down his forehead into his eyes, from his jaw to his chest.   _Hot,_ hot, hot.

The rest of his body was covered, the familiar feeling of the Flash uniform suddenly unbearably restricted as his face was trapped and bound and he couldn’t feel any breeze on the rest of his body.  His breath came in faster.  He was scared.

“ _Look-y look-y,_ ” the unnaturally high-pitched voice squealed.  There was the sound of metal scraping across metal and the unmistakable moan of the zombie grew louder.  “Gor _-illas_ and _tedd-ys_ but I got myself a _doll-y.”_

Barry couldn’t scream out Len’s name.  He could hardly breathe.

* * *

  
_Earlier_

_Late afternoon, 1st day in the prison_

Barry wasn’t sure he or Iris was looking forward to teaming up with Eddie and Len again, considering how the last time went, but there was no arguing with the groups that had been established.  It made sense, Iris, Cisco, and Caitlin were the only ones never trained to fight and with no specialties, they had to stay in groups made of the stronger fighters just in case.  Of those three, only Iris could throw a punch, and was familiar with a gun and a hatchet.  But there was a difference between playing a sport, or learning a weapon from necessity, and being trained to kill. Each group needed Mick, Len, or Lisa since apparently (which Barry was going to ask about later) the three were well acquainted with the layout of Iron Heights specifically regarding ways to get in and out that were certainly not legal.  

Each group also needed a metahuman.  Shawna, Iris, Caitlin, and Barry all shared a knowing glance at that; Shawna looked reluctant to part from Mark but did so anyway.  Shawna and Iris had both, at some point over the past day, let Barry know they wanted Barry to keep the pregnancy a secret until (in Shawna’s case) they knew if they wanted or didn’t want to keep it, or they told Mark or Eddie.  Barry could respect that.  In terms of keeping secrets from Len, this wasn’t Barry’s secret to tell and he knew Len would understand.

Still, Barry wished Len wouldn’t separate Shawna and Mark.  He did understand, if any of the group was in a scenario where they were captured and lost their weapons a metahuman was the only defense.  

Lisa, Mark Mardon, Cisco and Caitlin made up the back, keeping their eyes on the escape route, which was a sewer underneath Iron Heights.  It had been closed off years ago, separated from the rest of the prison, but Len was confident Hartley could blow it up without an issue.  Staying outside would give Mark Mardon the advantage, Lisa could run lookout (she wasn’t happy about it), Caitlin was there in case of a rapid need for an evac, and Cisco could manage the radio.  

Hartley had set up communication devices, finally, though only five worked.  Cisco had one, and Eddie distributed the others to Iris, Len, Hartley, and Shawna.  

They crawled through the sewer in their group of eight, while Cisco chatted away in their ear about how he hoped Bivolo wasn’t too pissed they left the metahuman to protect the house alone, until they reached a point where Len told them to stop.  

Hartley blasted through the ceiling while Barry carefully used his speed to grab the pieces of cement before they hit the floor.  And then the groups were through, in some sort of basement structure.  Hartley, James, Shawna, and Mick all went up a staircase that would take them into the general population area, and Barry, Len, Iris and Eddie moved farther into the basement.  

“This will take us toward the storage for the Mess,” Len was saying, holding his gun carefully with his right hand but waving nondescript with his left arm.  It wasn’t like his left was useful for anything, they’d figured.

Shawna _had_ found Len prosthesis.  She’d finally remembered to give it to him.  The moment Barry had seen it, a genuine _hook,_ he’d cracked up laughing and then stopped when he realized the ridiculous and horrible amount of bad jokes Len could make about that.   _‘For Captain Hook!’_ Shawna had said proudly, and it had been the first time Barry had seen her smile since her test came back positive.

Len’s arm was too sensitive to wear that yet, the wound still painfully fresh.  It had a rotten smile, blood and bone that hung around the stump, but Barry doubted Len would actually put the prosthesis on.

Then again, the man did seem to love his Captain Cold persona.  So maybe he would.

“You think the military guys would be hiding out there?” Eddie asked, respect and concern in his voice.

“I know if I had been in prison when this had gone down, the first place I’d bunker and barricade would be the mess hall,” Len said.  The hallway they were walking was dark and damp, dripping black water from the pipes along the ceiling and walls and rusted, cement closing them in.  It was defensible at least, there was no fear of being snuck up on from either direction with Iris and Barry holding flashlights and with Len taking up the front and Eddie at the back and…

While Eddie and Len were the ones who were best trained with guns Barry didn’t like that the two of them were taking point. _I’m stronger than Eddie,_ he thought, casting a glance to the other man with annoyance, _Len too._  

He was wearing his Flash uniform, the hood pulled down, but he almost wanted to pull the mask back on to try and make a point- people tended to treat him more seriously when he wore the whole uniform.  Barry didn’t, just because he felt it was weird to wear his complete uniform when Eddie and Iris were in jeans, combat boots, and dark shirts, and Len was wearing a heavy black coat instead of his Captain Cold parka.

“It’s about sixteen hundred yards,” Len continued, “we’re on the other end of the prison.  This is a tunnel meant for emergencies only, to transport guards to safety in case of a prison riot.  It’s not in use anymore, but the old Iron Heights was built over the new-” He tapped his cold gun lightly on one of the pipes in the wall, “so these foundations are still here.”

“Were you here a lot?” Iris asked, excited.  She paused once she realized what she said.  “Oh, sorry, that’s not the best question-”

“I _was_ here, once,” Len answered her.

Iris gave Barry a quick glance, looking nervous, and as they kept walking and no one else seemed to talk Barry shrugged.  He gave Iris a look that said ‘go ahead’ and gestured to Len.

Barry was curious to hear more about Len’s life.  He’d just never worked his way up to asking.

“When were you here?” Iris wondered.

 _“Iris,”_ Eddie warned, nervous.

Len chuckled, glancing back for just a moment.  Barry flickered a flashlight over Len’s eyes by accident, but Len just blinked and said, “Honestly, Thawne, what are you afraid I’m going to do?”

“You’ve already done everything in the book,” Eddie said, his voice an apology.  He stood his ground, and the group paused in their underground passage.  

“Not _everything,”_ Len said, frowning.

“C’mon, boys, do we have to start this again?” Iris asked, exasperated.  Barry agreed, nodding.  

“I have a right to be protective of my girlfriend,” Eddie said stiffly.

Len’s eyes flashed with anger and he took a careful step forward.  “What makes you think I wouldn’t protect my boyfriend then? Why, give me one _good_ reason, why I would _purposely_ hurt Barry’s best friend?”

“You’re a criminal,” Eddie said instantly.

 _“Eddie,”_ Iris sighed.  She rubbed her hand along the bridge of her nose, acting like she’d heard this argument a million times.

It was getting old. Barry was sick of the tension between Eddie and Len and he knew Iris hated it just as much as Barry did.  “If you two are so great,” Barry said, annoyance seeping through the words, “maybe you can concentrate on helping Iris and I _find our fathers_ instead of fighting with each other?”

Barry didn’t waste time looking at how Eddie or Len responded to that.  He grabbed the pistol from the holster on his right leg and speeded past Len with three solid, fast steps.  Barry was in the front of the group in a moment.  

“Barry and I will take point,” Iris said firmly.  

Surprisingly, neither Len nor Eddie said anything.  They let Barry and Iris lead after Iris gave Eddie her flashlight.  

The sixteen hundred yards went by incredibly slowly.  Something about _walking_ felt like crawling lately, yet another side effect of his superspeed.  This wasn’t the first time Barry wished he could speed _up_ the world _around him_ instead of just himself, but that wasn’t his power.  He slowed down time… relatively.  

It had made the first two months with the Rogues, the snail’s pace of fighting blizzards and traveling, even more unbearable.  He still had to feel long, boring moments just the same as everyone else.  His powers somehow made it even harder to deal with.

Barry sighed, and hoped his father and Joe were okay.  All he wanted was… not to see them as a walker.  He’d rather anything, even fully dead, than to see either man as a zombie.

* * *

Caitlin tapped her fingers nervously on the first aid kit, one of many supplies in the van she was sitting on top of.  She was a doctor, the only doctor despite what Shawna believed, and it was her job to wait.  Wait.  Wait.  Wait.

It was always Caitlin’s job to wait.

She waited for Ronnie to return, she waited for anyone in the group to be hurt, she waited for Leonard Snart to wake up so they both could suffer through the agony of changing the man’s bandages, Caitlin trying not to vomit and Leonard doing his best not to pass out- but people like Leonard Snart followed their lovers into danger and Caitlin Snow had never been allowed to.

She was progressive, not a waiter and it didn’t come naturally to her.  When Caitlin Snow wanted to be a doctor, she rushed her way through medical school until she reached the top of her field to be hand chosen by Harrison Wells himself.  When she thought a mechanic on the project looked cute? She managed to figure out flirting for once and it paid off.  Now she was twenty-five, married, with a PhD and a head full of practical knowledge and yet… yet.  

Caitlin opened the first aid kid, frowning as her fingertips brushed over bandaids yellow with age.  In the corner, she saw a little black box and opened it to reveal tweezers, a needle, and nail clippers.  Her nails were torn, ripped with her front teeth until it hurt.  

For all her practical knowledge, a life of permanent anxiety was never meant for her.  Caitlin grabbed the nail clippers, doing her best to fix the mess she’d made from nervously biting her nails.

From her position on top of the van she could see the sewer gate, protected by rocks around it, in a large clearing.  She was close to the others, the two vans they’d found had been parked strategically to give them all cover just in case of an attack.  

Lisa was standing, militarily still, her eyes straining as she looked from the sewer to the far away stretch of barbed wire indicating the top of a wall and the very edge of a guard tower.  That was all they could see of Iron Heights.  

“What’s your position?” Cisco said, his voice making everyone jump.  It must have been the fifteen minute mark, he was reminding one of the two groups to check in.    
Caitlin hadn’t noticed one of the groups had been late, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Hartley Rathaway’s familiar drone crackling on the radio, _“Present.  Accounted for.  Even James, sadly enough.”_

“Every fifteen minutes,” Cisco reminded, “start the timer.”  

_“Got it, you insufferable moron.”_

Some things never changed.  Caitlin glanced up at the sky, a dull blue with grey clouds.  Some things did.  

Her wedding ring was beautiful, too many memories attached to it, and Caitlin almost wished she could stop wearing it when Ronnie left.  It was one thing when her husband was gone when she lived in her beautiful apartment, safe and sound on the Upper East Side of Central City, it was another when there were monsters everywhere, fear dogging her steps, and the one person who had sworn to protect her wasn’t.

Eddie Thawne still opened doors for Iris; he talked to her with respect and held her in his arms with a worshipful look in his eye.   _Mark Mardon_ of all people was willing to put up with anything just for Shawna, and his worry, which Caitlin could clearly see as the man paced nervously from one end of a van to another, was almost refreshing to see.   _Leonard Snart_ leaned on Barry just as much as Barry leaned on _him,_ a pair Caitlin had never expected to see but that made so much sense when she watched them interact.  Even _Lisa Snart_ and Cisco, who weren’t even _anything_ to each other, who were currently just a one-night-stand in the apocalypse, had some sort of spark between them.

Caitlin had loneliness.  She could almost convince herself she didn’t need it, that she was strong, independent, and smart enough to make her own path.  Her husband’s absence still hurt.

She mused, she thought, and she could not be blamed at all for not being able to scream out a warning before a man dressed in brown and gray camo slipped his hand over her mouth and knocked her out.

* * *

Eventually, Len reached out with his hand and pulled Barry to a stop.  Silently, he reached upward, aiming his gun at a place on the wall that didn’t seem different to the others.

 Apparently Eddie shared that belief when he asked out loud, “Are you sure that’s the place?  There are no marks?”

“I was counting paces,” Len said for an answer.  He shot the gun, a solid and continuous light of blue in the air.  It instantly made everything cold, and Iris shivered.  Barry vibrated his arms along the sides of his Flash uniform to help him get warm.

Eventually, the ice seemed in place and Len stepped back.  “Barry,” he said, turning to him, “mind breaking the ice?”

“Is that supposed to be a joke because it doesn’t make sense in context,” Barry said.  “Step back.”  

The group did, leaving Barry enough room to gain a bit of speed, just enough for ten short steps and a solid punch, not supersonic but enough to break the unnaturally brittle roof in front of him.  “I was being literal,” Len told him.

“Asking for me to do your dirty work,” Barry said, grinning away from Len as he spoke, “here I thought you were the one who loved to punch things.  And people.”  It was a dumb thing to say, but stupid enough that Barry almost laughed at the absurdity of it given their situation and… it was just hard to come up with a joke in an underground, dripping dungeon of a prison possibly filled with the undead.

Barry moved forward quickly, lightning and his side and the sensation of dropping in his stomach.  The paces passed in a blur, drops of water halting in midair as he surged past.  He curled his fist, trusting Len’s expertise to make the material in front of him brittle enough and slammed his hand forward.  

It hurt, his knuckles ached, but that was all.  Barry heard the effect once he stopped moving, the roof around him shattering in the perfect, round hold made by Len’s gun.

Len sighed.  “You would have been a wonderful thief, Barry,” he said, looking up.  The hole clearly opened up into another room, but it was dark.  Barry shone the flashlight but didn’t get anything besides the high ceiling so it was impossible to tell if the room was the mess hall or cafeteria.  

“I like to think I’d have been a good thief too,” Iris said.  She moved over to the side of the hold and then clasped her hands together, bending her knee and making a place for them to step on.  “Come on, big guy,” she said to Len, giving him a careful smile, “the rest of us can climb on the pipes on the walls.”

Len seemed to take a moment before he remembered.  “Thank you.”  He nodded.  And then he gripped Iris’ shoulder, stepped up onto her hands and was only there for a moment, Iris almost falling under his weight, when his right hand grasped the edge of the wall and his foot was close enough to the pipes that it could get some purchase there.  Iris watched him go up with a proud look on her face, and she turned to Barry and Eddie with an expression clearly saying, _‘See that?’_

“Good call, Iris,” Barry acknowledged.  He ran, moving fast, taking two steps up the wall and grabbing the edge of the pipe as he did.  He propelled himself up out of the hallway in one fluid motion right after Len.

The room was dark, hard to see, and Barry’s flashlight didn’t reach the edge of the walls which was… terrifying.  With the current state of the earth, Barry had even _more_ reason to be afraid of the dark then when he was a child.  He moved to Len’s side almost immediately.  His arm brushing against Len’s right side, feeling the heat generating from the other man as a comfort.  

Around them were tables and stools, eerily empty.  The dust in the air made it look like they were underwater.  It wasn’t long before Iris’ flashlight joined Barry’s, and they pointed them in opposite directions as Len slowly walked forward.  

Barry was expecting plenty of terrifying things, a zombie coming up out of nowhere scaring him shitless, Nosferatu, Harrison Wells/Eobard, Ed Gein, one of the scarily large amount of people who had tried to kill him in his short life, and etc. etc. ad. infinitum.

He wasn’t expecting his flashlight to stumble over a graying, rotted, maggot infested pile of literal shit.  But it did; the mess almost going unnoticed as it was hidden by an overturned table.  It was rather sickening to think everyone’s sense of smell had grown so dull over this time that none of them had smelled that.

“So,” Barry said, freezing and looking at that.

“That’s not human,” Leonard replied.  

Barry didn’t want to hear that.  “Could be a lot of humans-” he tried.

“No,” Iris said steadily, “that’s definitely a large mammal of some sort.  Could be a bear.”

Barry looked up with knowing exasperation.  “Or a gorilla,” he said with dread.

“Okay,” Len snorted, _“or_ a _gorilla._ A bit more realistically, a coyote or a-”

“No,” Eddie said.  The sound of him cocking his gun instantly put Len on edge.  “It’s a gorilla.  When everyone’s been talking about the military it’s-”

“Eisling?” Barry guessed, “General Eisling came here and Joe went with him?”

“You knew the name of the general,” Iris said, her voice deadpan with annoyance.  “Is this a _Flash_ thing? One of those Flash things _no one told me about_ until a goddamn apocalypse happened?”

 _“Wait.”_  Len looked at Barry, his eyes dark and intense in the shadows, the flashlight making his cheekbones look hallow.  And… it was a strangely hot effect, how dangerous and strong Len looked, rugged shadows over his chin from stubble, the bandage on his left hand and glowing blue gun in his right…

Barry had to shake his head to dispel that image.

“A gorilla.”  Len looked from Eddie to Barry, the confusion in his voice mimicked on Iris’ face.  Iris crossed her arms and glared.  “This is… _plausible?”_

“Yeah,” Barry said, about to explain when Len continued.

“A gorilla.  In a prison.   _Gorilla?”_

“His name is Grodd,” Barry said, “we kind of had a crazy fight.  He was the last meta I fought before Oliver, Ronnie and I got the messages about the whole uh… ‘necromancy’ thing.”

 _“Meta?”_ Iris said as Len contemplated that.

“Yeah,” Barry told her.  “He would have killed me and Joe but General Eisling ended up stepping in.  He was prepared somehow for Grodd and there was nothing we could do.  Caitlin and Grodd had some sort of connection and she tried as hard as she could to get us to bring Grodd back but there really was nothing-”

“Meta-gorilla?” Iris clarified.  She frowned at Eddie.   _“Meta-gorilla.”_

“A meta-gorilla,” Len repeated, standing still.  He was staring at Barry and not looking at him.  “Now there’s a _meta-gorilla.”_

“He has telepathic powers,” Barry said.  He felt like he was under a microscope, the fearful awe in Len’s voice making him uncomfortable.  “Eisling was going to use him to study meta-human powers, we’d always planned to try to get Grodd back but literally.  It was a week later and the apocalypse happened.”

“Either Eisling found a way to control Grodd,” Eddie said, not able to look at Iris.  His shoulders were slumped.  “Or Grodd got loose.”

“For Grodd’s sake I hope he got loose,” Barry said, the idea terrifying, “but for our sake…?”

“We have to keep moving,” Len said sternly.  “No one is in this room or we’d have been shot at or greeted by now so let’s try and stay in close quarters where we can see in front of us.”  The radios Len and Iris were holding started blinking a low red light, the signal that someone was on the other line, and the two of them lifted the radio to their mouths.  Len turned his on but it was Iris who checked in.

“We made it to the cafeteria,” Iris whispered into the radio.

The group had made it to the cafeteria doors, and Len made a ‘wait’ gesture.  He looked out the stiff windows in the doors, the ones at eye level, but didn’t see anything.  He stayed, ready and waiting for Iris to finish.

Barry was trying to focus and stop admiring the curve of Len’s back, the tight toned figure he could only imagine under that parka, connect with the turned neck and face, ears and- when he heard Hartley’s voice on the radio and saw Len flinch at the sound.  Len glared at the radio on his waist and flicked it off.

 _That should not be attractive,_ Barry tried to remind himself.

 _“I was trying to do the third check in,”_ Hartley said, voice low and electronic, and Shawna’s crackling voice added, _“We.”_

“Our time says we do the fourth check in five minutes,” Eddie said to Iris who repeated that back into the radio.  Eddie was holding the egg timer they were using to count between radio calls.

 _“We got lost,”_ Shawna’s voice explained, _“in the dark and didn’t notice the timer went off.  Our schedule was changed.”_

“The third check?” Barry encouraged, feeling apprehensive.  He could hear Shawna breathing heavily through the radio, afraid for Mark Mardon.  Len’s body was stiff with worry and Barry remembered Lisa was with Caitlin and Cisco too.

“What happened?” Iris asked.

 _“Nothing too worrisome,”_ Hartley said, voice a low whisper that faded in and out, _“they just didn’t answer our check.”_ That _was_ worrisome. 

“Maybe their device malfunctioned?” Iris wondered.

Hartley, who’d built the communication gear, had a definite edge to his tone when he replied, _“Or not; there’s no conceivable way the device could have ceased its function.  If it had, which is impossible, Cisco Ramon would have fixed it by now.”_

“Should we go back?” Iris asked the group.

“No,” Eddie said firmly.  “We have to keep moving and get out of here as fast as we can.”

Barry agreed.  “Grodd could already know we are here.  The less time we give whoever is still around time to regroup-”

“Can’t you tell if it’s bear droppings?” Iris asked Barry, “You’ve studied animals, right?”

“I studied what was relevant toward living in a city,” Barry explained.  He also wasn’t exactly… liking the idea of trying to examine the droppings on the floor.  Although… it _could_ be a bear just as likely.  Grodd was highly intelligent, it didn’t make sense for him to just leave shit on the ground unless he'd been trapped in this room.  “I wouldn’t be able to tell it apart from anything else.  Rats, mice, different kinds of birds, dogs, cats, I can do.  Nothing not indigenous to the city.”

Eddie looked like he almost wanted to laugh. “You’ve studied _that?”_ He asked.

“I’m a forensic scientist,” Barry reminded him. "Animal smuggling is actually a pretty huge operation, illegal and deadly creatures are worth a lot of money.  Pound for pound, bear gallbladders are worth more than cocaine."

"Wha-" Eddie did a doubletake.

“Lisa and Mark Mardon are two of the strongest people we have,” Len said, bringing the conversation back.  “Let’s keep searching and if they don’t reply, that’s when we go back.”

* * *

They worked their way around the lower levels first, walking through eerily empty storage rooms and hallways, Len occasionally giving them the name of a room they were in.  The cafeteria, since it was the place with the largest collection of prisoners at any time, was in the lowest floor so it could be easily sealed off in case of a riot.   Most of the other places were file and supply storage for cleaning equipment, a large room of refrigerators that smelled so bad they couldn’t even step through it, and nothing else.

There was occasional dried blood on the floors and walls.  Barry initially pointed that out, but as it kept appearing, sporadic, uncomfortable, no dead body to give claim to it, he eventually stopped.

The prison was filled with papers, chemicals, all stacked up and not messed with at all.  It looked like the prison had merely been abandoned years and years ago, and if it wasn’t for the dried blood Barry would have believed it.

“There were a lot of prisoners here,” Eddie pointed out, when Len was finally guiding the group up to the stairs.  “Shouldn’t there be any bodies?”

“Not if they were turned,” Iris said.  Her voice was curt, unemotional, her mouth in a deep frown.  “The Black Hand can control the zombies-”

“The horde from before,” Barry remembered.  Eddie opened the staircase door for them and Barry stepped through first, hand tightening on his gun.  There was nothing, yet again.  He flashed the light over the staircase, seeing nothing but the occasional dark patch of old blood on the floors and walls.  “When we were coming to Central City we had to hide and wait for this massive horde of undead to pass us, it could have been zombies from the prison.”

“An army,” Len said.  The idea was morbid and as the group slowly walked up the staircase, no one wanted to continue that train of thought.

Iris checked back in with Hartley and Shawna.  The other group had just entered general population and there was no word from Cisco yet.  “What’s up these stairs?” Iris wondered aloud.

“It’s separated.  Officer and nurse headquarters first, then if we take a short walk through the yard we’ll be in the psych ward.”  Len walked right behind Barry, his left arm occasionally hitting Barry’s back as his right hand held the gun in front of his side.  The closeness between the two of them was comforting.

Barry wondered how long Len would be jealous of Hartley.  And _why,_ of all people, Len actually was worried about _Hartley’s_ influence on Barry.  When they reached the main floor, he opened the door for Len.

Barry tried hard not to watch Len step through, very hard, but his flashlight flickered down Len’s legs and he… he _knew_ Iris and Eddie saw that.  

Barry was grateful that everything was so dark because blood rushed to his face in a sickening blush.  Neither of them said anything but when Iris through the door she gave Barry a wink.

“Shut up,” Barry mumbled under his breath.

“Didn’t say anything,” Iris defended.

“You _know_ what you-” Barry started to say, but Eddie made a ‘shush’ noise.  He and Iris paused, looking down the hallway.  It was still dark, but slightly eased by the occasional window high in the ceiling of the wall.  They still needed the flashlights to see but it wasn’t as bad as before.  

Len had set his gun in his holster and was holding the communication device (or _walkie talkie_ as Hartley absolutely refused to call it) to his ear.  Iris mimicked him and then she nodded, eyes wide.  

“What?” Barry whispered.  He stepped next to Iris, trying to hear what she did through the device but whatever it was was too quiet.  

“There’s a man,” Iris said softly, “distant voices.  Cisco’s device must be on and it’s picking up the conversation around him.”

“What-” Barry started to say.

Len stepped over to Barry’s side quickly and set the radio against Barry’s ear.  His left arm, the injured one, was brushing against Barry’s waist and Len’s right hand wrapped around Barry’s shoulder.  Barry felt the blush get stronger- he couldn’t look in Len’s eye.

 _“…inside the prison, it’s a minefield, too many…”_ The voice faded out, there was some whirring noise like an engine.  It was enough that Barry recognized it.

“Eisling,” he said.

“He must have found the others,” Eddie nodded.  “Okay.  So… what do we do about that?”

“Eisling won’t kill them,” Barry said, only reasonably sure.

“My dad could be back there,” Iris whispered, so soft Barry nearly didn’t hear it.  “With the general.”

 _General,_ the word sent guilty shocks into Barry’s chest and he almost forgot why.  

“Maybe we should go back,” Eddie said with a look at Iris.

Len’s eyes narrowed.  His hand with the device dropped to Barry’s shoulder.  “And Henry Allen could still be here,” he pointed out.

Barry swallowed.  

“This place is a ghost town,” Eddie said apologetically, “we haven’t come across anything.  If all the prisoners were really turned into zombies I’m sorry but I don’t see how… how anyone could have survived.”

Len stepped closer against Barry’s side.  “You’d rather leave just because of the possibility of Joe West?”

“Len,” Barry said.  He brushed his hand against Len’s side.  “We are here to find Joe and Henry, if Henry’s with Eisling and the military _outside_ of the prison then that’s half the reason we came.”

“Your father could very likely be with Joe,” Eddie pointed out.

“We have four people back there already,” Len said angrily, “including _Mark Mardon_ and my sister.  They are just as strong as us.  I’d love to be able to see if Lisa is alright but that is _not_ the mission.  We are exploring the prison for signs of Henry and Joe West; so far neither group has come forward with a lead.”

“The other group could keep looking,” Iris offered, “we could head back to see what was wrong.  Or the other way around.”

“Or we could split up,” Eddie pointed out.

 _“Split up,”_ Len repeated mockingly.  

“I don’t like the idea,” Barry said.  He looked at Iris, his gaze dropped accidentally to her stomach, and when his eyes went back to Iris she was looking at him with murder in her gaze.  Iris shook her head angrily.

“You want us to split up, in a dark prison, likely filled with monsters and convicts and some large animal that might be a _meta-human gorilla,_ ” Len snapped at Eddie.  “Do you have any idea how stupidly _naïve_ you are?”

“I could search the prison at superspeed,” Barry offered, the idea of heading off alone uncomfortable but he was willing to do it.

 _“No,”_ Len growled.  His hand tightened on Barry’s shoulder.

“Wait,” Iris said.  “What if we just send one person back to check on the others?”

Len looked at the group for a moment, contemplating that.  Barry wasn’t sure which one they would send and then Len said, “They’d have to be stealthy and quiet.  Only Shawna could do it.”

Barry and Iris exchanged a knowing look.  “It’s up to Shawna,” Iris said to Barry.  “She decides if she wants to risk it.”

“Ask her,” Len said to Iris.  “And then we keep going.”

Onward through the dark prison, looking for a man who went missing a month ago and another man who hadn’t been heard from since the apocalypse started.  Barry closed his eyes, his stomach a bundle of nerves.  He wanted to see his father, alive and well, more than anything in the world.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Barry has met and fought Grodd before but since Iris wasn't aware of his status as the Flash pre-apocalypse, I had to do some rewriting of that. It was necessary for him to know and have met and understood Grodd, for what I'm doing here. 
> 
> Disclaimer that I actually ADORE Eddie Thawne. I love him. I love how he treats Iris. I love his character. He and Len are very much opposites in how they handle and deal with all sorts of things, and that tension is something that is definitely to be expected along with both men's insistence on leading their group (though Iris and Barry are just as capable as they are). Neither Eddie or Len are wrong in what they want; and it's not either vs. the other that I want to portray.
> 
> Unfortunately, it's the summer and I guess my weekends are really busy (not that I'm having fun, like... the opposite of fun). Sorry for the wait between this and the last chapter.


	31. Iron Heights - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of certain responsibilities this summer, and so I can made the chapters better in terms of the quality (s well as get some drabbles in that I've been wanting to work on) I've decided to start updating on a schedule. 
> 
> Rogue Z is going to be updated on Tuesdays from now on.

_After midnight, 2nd day in the prison_

The calloused hand holding onto his arm wouldn’t move, and Barry could feel someone pushing up against him.  He was trapped, no matter what Barry did there was something clogging him down.  It was like part of his mind was unreachable.

Barry wanted to move but he couldn’t get his mind to comply.  His hands were weak and shaking so that every effort took more energy than it ever should have, pushing against his restraints made him gasp out for the little air he could receive, and attempting to vibrate and phase his wrists free only compounded the hypoglycemia.  He needed to eat but he hadn’t in far too long.  Over a day, and during that time he’d used his abilities enough that his body was receding, collapsing, starved for energy until he was nearly helpless.

That voice sounded again, not saying anything, just a man speaking in a high pitched squeal and Barry didn’t understand.  The voice was mumbling about a surgery, about a zombie who needed to be ‘fixed’ and a doll, and it was frankly too much.

Overwhelming.  Barry’s mind not able to handle it.  He barely had enough air to breathe, the consistently growing headache had reached a point where he was ready to pass out.

“ _Dun_ dun dun dun,” the man hummed to himself, and the zombie groaned.

If Barry could escape he could- where had Len gone?  It was so hard to think.  The last thing Barry remembered was… the zombie.  The one who talked, that familiar faces that…

He was ruminating on that when he felt a hand clap over the mask on his face.

* * *

_Late afternoon, 1st day in the prison_

They took a break before they went up to the second floor.  One of the rooms, large and open with only two entrances, seemed to have been formerly used for showers and redesigned into a kind of office space; they figured it was a good place to stop.  Eddie and Iris immediately pulled one of the cabinets up against the door, and Barry sped over to the other end of the room to do the same.  Essentially, they were barricaded inside, and that would give them a few moments reprieve from the stress of walking through the dark building.

Iris lay the flashlight down on top of one of the cabinets, setting off a low, ambient light in the room, and Barry did the same on the other side.  The effect of the two lights crossing was odd, it gave everything they could see a grey and grainy tone like an old movie.  

There were lots of things Barry didn’t want to be thinking about that could be hiding in the shadows, under one of the office desks or behind a cabinet.  He sped quickly back beside the others.  Iris sat against the cabinet and Eddie slowly lowered himself next to her.  He took her hand in his own and Iris rested her head on his shoulder.

Barry stood by the wall, body thrumming with anticipation, energy and… as Barry watched Len fiddling with the communication device, trying to get a reply to get Shawna to answer he finally admitted it.  If only to himself.  The feelings that had been boiling up ever since Hartley had confronted Len.

Barry was horny.  Immensely.  Intensely.   _Inappropriately._  It had been almost two entire days now since the last time Len had even kissed him and Barry felt like he was ready to jump the other man if Len so much as _stared_ at him.

It had been _fucking…_ just… fucking sexy.  When Len had punched Hartley?  It had been… Barry shouldn’t- really shouldn’t, Hartley was his friend and Barry knew exactly how Hartley felt, Barry’d been punched by Eddie for the same reason _but_ but but but _but…_ every time Barry thought about the way Len’s shoulders had hitched up, his eyes had flashed with anger, and Len’s fist collided into Hartley’s face until Len’s chest heaved with fury, unshaven and strong, beaten down from the fucking apocalypse and yet still exactly the same… Barry wanted him.  He wanted Wanted _WANTED_ wanted Len.

He wanted Len in his mouth, wanted Len to throw him to the floor and fuck him until he couldn’t breathe, wanted Len to grab his hair and bend him over one of the desks and take Barry like Barry was a fucking prize to be claimed and conquered which was…

Barry was so glad no one in the world was a mind reader.  That he knew of.

Len’s coat constricted his body in the best way; Barry praised the loss of the parka.  He was sick of the parka.  He wanted Len in those gorgeous blue, armless shirts that showed off the biceps clutched around him tight, the arms that held him when he slept now holding a gun.

Len was attractive to Barry in so many ways.  The way Len talked, the smug look he gave Barry when he thought Barry couldn’t see him, and… the fucking _arms._  

It wasn’t just _Len,_ it was also… there were lots of things Barry had dealt with in his life, things he’d never let himself feel or experience, but with Len it was out in the open.  Barry felt like he could explore, could _think,_ could move things he’d fantasized about out of late night Google searches into reality.  Accepting that wanting men and women was just a part of who he was.

There was something liberating about all of this.

Then there were the parts that _were_ Len that kept turning Barry on.  The way Len held himself with confidence; the way he kissed Barry every time like there wouldn’t be more; Len’s stupid grin when he made a bad joke, and it was the fact Len seemed to need to hold him as much as Barry did, that Len could keep their group together even when the world literally was falling apart, and Len told Barry he was in love with him, that he wanted Barry more than anything else, and Barry could actually believe it.

“Shawna?” Len was saying into the device in his hand.  He had been talking with Shawna, who’d answered just a bit before, but Barry hadn’t been paying attention.  His eyes were more focused on the long shadows cast on Len’s face from the flashlights, dark eyes and sunken cheeks, strong jaw- “What are you thinking?”

A buzz, a hum, and Shawna’s voice came through the device, _“I’m not comfortable with that.”_

“It’d be safer for you to go,” Len tried.  He frowned, his left arm moved upward for a moment and then Len stopped it, let it fall back to his side, and he continued, “Your powers can keep you hidden from the others and you can radio back what you find.”

 _“Well…”_ Shawna trailed off.

Iris was still leaning against Eddie, their hands intertwined together, when she raised her radio to her mouth.  “Please, Shawna.  It’s my father,” Iris said softly. Barry rubbed a point on his forehead and managed to look away from Len for a few seconds.  

The crackle on the radio was silent for a long moment.   _“But it’s not my father,”_ Shawna said.  A long sigh.

“But-!” Iris started to say.

Len interrupted.  “We can’t force you to go, Shawna,” he told her.

 _“Why can’t Flash go?”_ Shawna asked, her tone harsher, _“It’s dark, I’d have to use a flashlight to teleport.  Flash doesn’t.”_

_“He’s not going,” Len said immediately._

_“Why?”_

“We can’t force you to go.  If you’re not willing to head back alone than you aren’t,” Len said, not answering her question.  Barry _was_ curious.  It made sense for him to go alone just as much as Shawna.  He and Shawna had powers that made the both of them effective scouts; and Barry was a far more comfortable going into danger himself than asking someone else to do it.

 _“Don’t be like that,”_ Shawna sighed.

“Please,” Iris said into her device, “Shawna.  What would you do if it was your father?”

 _“I’d do anything,”_ Shawna’s voice was clear, _“Anything at all.  But it’s not my father because my family is actually dead and I have other things to think about now.”_

“It could be Barry’s father too,” Iris pointed out.

“Wait!” Barry frowned, looking sharply at her.

_“Again.  That’s not my family; I have my own to think about.  Look, I am here at this prison to help but there is no way in hell I am going out alone.  Either my entire group comes back with me, into the clear danger you want us to go into or-”_

_“See,”_ Hartley’s voice came out of the devices, _“I am not comfortable heading back into some hostile military force.”_

“I’m not ordering you to go,” Len said.  “As long as you four keep on your search, we will figure out something on our end.”

 _“Next fifteen minutes?”_ Shawna asked.

“Yes,” Len answered.  And then he flicked the device off and leaned down to stuff it back into his sock, patting the boot over it.    
Barry found his eyes focusing on the dust that shifted around the beam of the flashlight.  It took a moment for anyone to speak.

“No one has found anything here yet, we can’t leave the others on the offchance there are still people in this prison,” Iris said softly to Len.

Len sighed, leaned back against the nearest partition, and thought for a moment.  His left arm was clutched against his chest and he scratched at his chin with his right hand.  “The problem is,” he pointed out, “if that general does have the others then he knows our exit strategy.  Shawna would be able to jump out of an ambush; anyone else would be a sitting duck once they stepped out of the sewer.”

“He never wanted to hurt us,” Eddie said strongly.  His eyes flickered to Barry and then Len.  “He was all about containing the apocalypse and trying to find samples for research at some military base.”

“None of you, however, have given the military half the headache that Mick has,” Len said, “compound _that_ damage with me, Lisa, and the rest of my Rogues. If I wasn’t sleeping with Barry I don’t think any of you,” he gestured to Eddie and Iris, but meant their whole group, “would have trusted my team anywhere near you and I don’t think a military general would have the same reaction to a defense of my character that’s only ‘well, Barry likes me’, _so…_ we are not in a good position.  I’m sure it’s not a comfortable feeling for the rest of you but frankly I have never trusted law enforcement and I can’t risk our lives without casing the situation.”

“We’re just going to sit here and do nothing?” Eddie asked.  His face had turned into a deep frown when Len mentioned his mistrust of law enforcement.  “That’s your sister out there.”

 _“Eddie,”_ Barry said angrily.

“What?” Eddie turned his look to Barry, that mistrustful, annoyed, and angry look Eddie had whenever Eddie spoke to Len and _it pissed Barry off._  After all this time, after Len literally cutting off his hand and managing to stay alive, Eddie still couldn’t listen to Len enough to let Len make the decisions.  

“Len knows what he’s doing,” Barry defended.  He took a step forward and didn’t move from there, unconsciously standing up at his full height to glare at Eddie sitting on the floor.  “Maybe if you listened to what someone else said for a few seconds you’d be able to actually help come up with a solution.”

Eddie stood up, eyes flashing, and Iris tried to pull him down but Eddie resisted.

Eddie could look dangerous when he was angry.  The man was kind and caring as a default, but it was that love, for Iris and for others, which made Eddie the man he was.  Still, part of Eddie loved to be in control just as much as Len did.  But Len was more willing to bend, to accept the changes and to accept what Eddie was doing whereas Eddie kept acting like Len’s suggestions were coming from Hannibal Lecter.  

There were very few times in the short period they’d known each other before the apocalypse that Eddie was angry at Barry, and Barry hadn’t liked it; Eddie made a good friend and Barry appreciated that.

Now, though, Barry could imagine punching Eddie in the face and the thought was… really good.

“I’m _sick_ of this,” Barry said as he moved forward, “all Len is saying is that Eisling probably prepared a trap so we should _think_ about what we’re getting into.  Len-”

“Since when are _you_ so cautious?” Eddie asked, “When would you ever just sit and wait, putting other people in danger while you _don’t do anything?!_ We could have been at the prison a week ago! Instead you were playing house with the _Rogues,_ with murderers and thieves and this isn’t like you, Barry.  You should be out searching this place right now instead of sticking to Snart’s side like glue.”

Iris was standing up beside him, holding onto Eddie’s arm, and looking away from Barry.  Barry felt a pang of sadness realizing Iris wasn’t stopping Eddie, and that what Eddie was saying was something the two of them likely agreed on.

“We _all_ decided to wait,” Barry pointed out. He felt something moving up behind him, Len’s hand against his back, but Len didn’t move any further.  

 _“Wait_ while you could have run out here any time,” Eddie growled.  His tired face, dark circles under his eyes and hard lines from the struggle, pale from avoiding the sun, it turned harsh, protective and angry easily.  It contorted Eddie’s face, made him almost frightening, and Barry didn’t know why but he was reminded of Harrison Wells/Eobard.

 “It’s like you’re afraid to use your powers.”

Barry’s fists clenched at his sides.  “Are you seriously bringing it up again?  Are you ever going to let that go,” he was almost shouting, “I don’t have _Stockholm Syndrome_ and Len hasn’t manipulated me into _anything;_  is it so ridiculous to think I might be in love with him?”

 _“I’m not saying that!”_ Eddie’s voice boomed in the quiet room, “You’re my friend, Barry, but it feels like I’m the only one trying to bring some sense back into this.  You’re not running-”

“I’m _in love_ with him,” Barry snapped.

“But you won’t use your powers to run farther than a _mile_ from his side,” Eddie growled, “you’re stuck on a _leash.”_

 _“Last_ time I ran away from everyone the _apocalypse happened!”_ Barry yelled, “I couldn't find anyone for three months. I used my powers in a fight I killed someone.  The entire world is _shit_ and you’re blaming Len for everything but Len is the only person keeping me sane.  I ran _too far,_ I changed time, I was using my powers for so many things I…” Barry shuffled back, feeling his voice falling to a low volume, “I can’t _read_ anymore, I finish books in seconds.  I eat huge meals every couple of hours or I start to feel sick.  I can move so fast that time stops but I can’t do _anything_ to make people move faster, sometimes _seconds_ last for _hours_ and…”

“Barry,” Len’s hand gripped his shoulder tight.

Barry hadn’t even realized he’d started shaking.  Iris was holding Eddie’s hand, tugging him away, her expression apologetic.  “I’m sorry,” Iris said, “I knew you were different, Bear, I didn’t think the pow-”

“I think,” Len said.  His hand dropped from Barry’s shoulder and his voice was harsh.  “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to prove to any of you that I’m a monster and frankly, I do not care your opinions of me but if you continue insisting that I don’t love my sister or Barry I think we are going to have more problems.”

“We just didn’t understand why Barry wouldn’t…” Iris swallowed.  “I’m sorry, Bear.  I’m not questioning you or Len I just didn’t understand why you’d changed.”

“He’s an idiot who ran into danger all the time,” Len said with a nod.  Barry frowned at him when Len continued, “We’re working on that.”

Iris gave Len a relieved smile.  “Yeah,” she nodded.  “Bear,” her eyes were sympathetic.

Barry moved to her side quickly and pulled her into a hug.  Iris sighed, wrapping her arms around Barry’s neck and holding him close.  “I hate this,” Iris mumbled into Barry’s ear.

“I know,” Barry whispered.  His hands dropped to her waist, not making it obvious but… he couldn’t help but remember Iris was pregnant. Barry wondered what was going through her mind.  It was pleasant to distract themselves from the state of the world, thinking about anything _but_ reality, yet reality was here and it was _dark._  Barry wanted to ask her what she was thinking but he couldn’t.  Iris hadn’t told Eddie.

“I’m so scared,” Iris said softly, turning her head against Barry’s neck.  Barry closed his eyes, holding her tighter.

“Iris,” Eddie said.  Iris’ fingers tightened on Barry’s uniform and she didn’t move for a long moment.  When she did, she wiped away at her eyes before turning to Eddie.  
For a second Barry thought she was going to tell him, but then Iris didn’t do anything but nod.  “We should split up,” Iris said, “Eddie and I will case out the exit the way we came.  We have the radios, so we’ll be able to let you know what’s going on.  I just can’t stay here, searching, when my dad might be out there.”

“There could be a trap,” Len reminded her.

“There’s no other way out of the prison,” Iris said.

“That’s true.  If you’re sure,” Len said.

“We’ll be alright,” Eddie said with a nod.  He took Iris’ hand in his own.  “And I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Len told him.

“I respect you,” Eddie said to Len.  He turned to Barry and gave him a sad smile.  “You too, of course.  I think we’re all… it’s hard for all of us.  I know I might not be clear about it but I am happy the Rogues are here with us.  We’re safer together.”

* * *

The exploration of the building had turned up nothing.  Barry had stayed by Len’s side, using the flashlight so fast that Len had been forced to tell Barry more than once to keep still- but no surprises occurred, just a long and unending hunt.

They made it back to the first floor and the entrance of the building.  They looked out the windows in the doors.  

The yard was dark now.  The sun and stars deceivingly bright outside now that the clouds had rolled back.

Barry couldn’t help but peer up through the prison window in amazement looking at the clear constellations he recognized and the ones he didn’t.  He was surprised how much he could remember, he hadn’t taken astronomy since he was a teenager.  Len was pointing out the building to their left, and the fence that separated them from everything else.  The prison yard was separated into several areas by a steel link fence, a precaution to keep prisoners from escaping.  The cold gun would make it easy for them, however, to get into the hospital ward from where they were.

“I found mars,” Barry interrupted.

Len stopped, turning his head to look at Barry.  “Where?” He asked softly.  

Barry moved up against Len’s side, and then pointed out the window.  “The moon is right over the building, you can almost see it,” he said, not exactly sure why Len was letting him ramble on about this, “but if you make a line straight from there, just over the guardhouse is that red looking star.  That’s mars.”

Len followed Barry’s finger against the glass.  “God of war,” he mumbled under his breath.

“I guess,” Barry said.  He let his eyes go back to the hospital ward across the yard, knowing that what they were doing now was only distraction, but then he felt Len’s chest up against his back.  Len’s hand brushed down Barry’s shoulder until it reached his wrist, and Len’s fingers ran along Barry’s palm.  Barry grasped Len’s hand in his own.  Len’s breath was on his neck.  “This is better than when we were fighting,” Barry joked, almost able to forget where they were.

Len kissed the side of Barry’s neck.  He clutched their entwined hands to Barry’s chest, holding him tight.  

Shawna and Hartley had called not too long ago, their group had found some sort of a zombie in a mask and were searching for more.  Iris and Eddie had made it out of the sewer without being noticed and were on foot following the mud trail of tires.

Len kissed the back of Barry’s head once and then pulled away and Barry almost… whined.  A shiver went up Barry’s back at the sudden loss of Len’s body against his own.  

“Come on,” Len said, and he pushed the door open carefully, “we haven’t seen anyone yet but we should still be stealthy.”  Len walked out the door, his hand going back to his holster to pull his gun out in front of him again.  His eyes were focused on the yard in front of him, fearsome and poised to fight.

Barry almost punched the wall in frustration.  He knew Len wasn’t doing it on purpose, but for fucks sake it had been two days? This was the longest they’d ever gone and-

He had to force himself to stop thinking about it.  They were searching the prison for survivors, not on a honeymoon.  Barry stepped out the door, following Len, holding the flashlight so it illuminated the ground directly in front of Len’s feet.  

The moon and stars gave them enough light that Barry could clearly see there were no other humanoid shapes around them.  A building straight over to their right had one flashing light over a window, and he tapped Len’s shoulder and pointed to it.  “Hartley and Shawna?” Barry wondered.

Len glared at the light and nodded.

And fuck, that angry, jealous look in Len’s eye when Barry said Hartley’s name was so _brilliant_ and attractive that Barry stumbled over his feet.  Barry had to force himself not to move the flashlight beam over Len instead of the grass.

Len blasted the lock over the fence with his gun and smashed it open.   _Amazing,_ Barry thought, _stop thinking about it stop thinking about it stop-_

Len held the door open for Barry to walk underneath his arm, and Barry brushed past Len’s side on purpose.  He could content himself at the moment with the occasional glances and touches, but there was a part of Barry that felt like it was close to exploding.

It was only a few short paces before they were at the hospital door.  When Len opened it and they stepped through, it was just as dark as the building they had left before.  Only the flashlight kept the world in focus.  

The darkness might be good for stealth but to Barry it was unsettling.  His heart already beat faster than any other living creature, except maybe a hummingbird, he wasn’t sure how much added anxiety he could take.   _At least_ , Barry thought as Len walked in front of him and the flashlight briefly illuminated the other man, _I can look at Len._

“Did you see that?” Len asked suddenly, interrupting Barry’s wandering thoughts.

Barry hadn’t been focused on anything higher than Len’s waist and he had to shake his head.  

“It was purple,” Len mumbled. He moved to Barry’s side, putting the cold gun momentarily back in the holster to grab the flashlight.  Len pointed it at a hallway to the left, tracing over the side of the wall.  “Right there.  It looked like… a snake.”

“A purple snake?” Barry repeated.

“Look,” Len said, and Barry wasn’t sure what Len was pointing at.  Len walked forward, moving the flashlight around to make sure there was no one beside the, until he reached the point he had shone the light over.  There was a long pile of dust on the ground.

“I’m not sure,” Barry said, frowning.  Len’s face was hard to read, considering the lack of light, but Barry could tell Len was being serious.

“Whatever it was,” Len said carefully.  He pushed at the dust with the tip of the flashlight but it didn’t do anything unusual.  “It’s gone.”

“I guess we’ll just keep an eye out for purple snakes then?” Barry offered, though the moment he said that his mind conjured up the actual image of what he was saying and it was terrifying.  “Maybe a meta-human… makes snake things.”

“It turned into dust the moment I looked at it,” Len pointed out, “it might not be dangerous.”  Len straightened up, handing the flashlight back to Barry and pulling out his gun again.  “We should keep a look out.”

“I swear if this place turns out to be haunted…” Barry said nervously.  His hand with the flashlight shook for a moment before he forced himself to take a deep breath.

“What’s wrong?”  Len’s voice was concerned.

They were already facing this hallway, so they started to move down this direction.  Barry kept the flashlight alternating between eye level and taking quick sweeps of the floor just in case.  “I don’t like the dark,” Barry mumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Len said softly.

“It’s fine,” Barry insisted, “I have superpowers it’s not like I can’t handle anything that’s out th-”

It wasn’t a purple snake.  More like a purple anvil.  But it came flying out of the darkness toward him and Barry would have been hit by it if he didn’t quickly move to the side.  The anvil, which had its own, violet glow, continued down the wall until it seemed to disappear into dust.

Len was on the opposite side of the hallway and the flashlight was on him for a moment, enough for Barry to see the confusion and surprise, before Barry turned back toward where the anvil had come.

“What the-” Len said.

Barry’s flashlight just showed the end of the hallway, the closed door straight ahead.  The hallway continued to the right, but there was no way he could see what was there.  Except… well, he _could_ go look to see what was there.  He could use his superspeed and flash forward, catching whatever metahuman made violet objects in surprise.

But his chest was beating fast even for a speedster, his breath coming in short, and instead of going forward Barry stepped closer to Len’s side and stared ahead with wide eyes.

This time they could see it coming around the corner, although ‘it’ was the only way to describe the object.  Purple light illuminated a mass of chains, swirled in a circle at the center but the edges lashed out like arms.  It came toward them, impossibly fast for a regular object. Barry pulled out his pistol and shot at it.  

The bullet made contact, but was propelled off and hit the side of the wall instead.  “It’s _real,”_ Barry said, shocked, “it’s not dust it’s-”

Len shot at a chain, swinging toward them, and the ice seemed to have some sort of effect, stopping it.  Barry called the lightning to him, and ran fast forward, ducking past violet light.  He ran onto the side of the wall, there for a moment, and propelled himself down, fist curled to collide with the object.

The object fell, weakened, though it didn’t seem completely done.  But then the light around it faded and suddenly, as unexpected as that alien object came, it was just… gone and in its place dust trailed from the air onto the floor.

Barry stared at the dust for a moment.  “So that was-”

“Hello,” Len said, holding his gun in front of him as he stared down the hallway.  For a moment Barry actually thought Len was saying that to _him_ and he was incredibly confused and then he looked where Len’s gun was pointing.

The woman had the same, violet illumination as the object, though it was more like a force field that flexed and undulated close around her skin.  It seemed to come from her hand, which she held in front of her curled into a fist.  Her face was covered in a purple mask over her eyes and nose, which curled up into two horns near the top of her forehead, and long dark hair flowed from that.  She was wearing something like a skin-tight wetsuit over her body, a dark color, but she had gloves the same purple as her mask and long purple boots that extended up to the center of her thigh.

The weirdest part, however, was the fast that she was _clearly_ hovering nearly a foot in the air.

“Let me guess, you’re both alive,” the woman said, seemingly unhappy about that.

Barry stared at her feet.  “You’re the girl who can fly,” he whispered to himself.

“That’s not so unusual,” the woman dismissed.  And with a flick of her wrist, a bolt of violet light shot out of a ring on her hand.  It contorted in the air, molding itself into the shape of a giant hand, and then the light was moving, faster than the eye could blink toward them.

Barry, however, could move even quicker.  He grabbed Len’s coat, throwing the both of them backwards, away from the strange formation in front of them.

The object moved past, and Barry had a grin of triumph on his face until the giant, violet hand turned in midair.  It was clenched around Len’s chest before Barry could think of anything to do.  The hand grabbed Len, pushed him up against the wall, and held tight.

It had happened in the span of a few seconds, and Len yelled more out of surprise than pain.

“Have you seen a zombie wandering around here?” The woman asked, looking at Len and then Barry with distaste.

Barry had never met a metahuman like her before.  She had more than one power, she could fly, she could _create_ objects and control them with her mind, and he wasn’t sure what to do.  So he did the first thing that came to mind.

The lightning crackled under his skin, and everything around him seemed to slow down yet his body was supercharged.  He moved quickly, faster than a bullet from his gun could shoot.

In an instant he was down the hall, and he ran past the flying woman in purple.  Quickly, he pivoted and turned, then facing her back, and he reached out his hand as he was behind her.  Barry took two fists full of her long, dark hair and then slammed his body toward the floor as fast as he could.

The woman’s head collided with the ground, her violet force field glowing strongly like it had been cracked.  She screamed out something wordless and angry, and then the object holding Len dissipated into dust.  The woman tried to roll away from Barry, but Barry held her hair tight.  He couldn’t reach for his gun like this but wouldn’t let her go.  
The woman twisted her body, a movement fast and nearly contortionist, and kicked out with her foot.  The purple boot hid Barry’s ear, and he gasped in pain.  The surprise was enough for the woman to roll out of Barry’s grip, and she was flying out of reach.  Her eyes seemed to glow bright with anger, and she lashed out with her ring.

A burst of ice hit the wall beside her head and she stopped.

Barry slowly lifted himself off the floor while the woman and Len glared at each other, each with their hands ready on respective triggers.

Len spoke first.  “My team saw a zombie in Gen Pop,” he told her, “it had a mask.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed and she thought about that.  “A pig mask?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Len told her.

“I’m the Flash,” Barry said, staring at her as she floated in the air with interest.  He had heard so often about people being able to fly but… was it the ring in her hand that gave her that power?  What sort of technology could by that small but house so much ability?  

The woman ran a hand through her hair and glared at Barry, but then she was floating down.  Her boots touched the floor and she landed with poised grace.  “Star Sapphire,” she said softly.  

“And I’m Captain Cold,” Len said.

She raised an eyebrow.   _“Okay,”_ she said with disbelief, looking at Len’s blue coat and the goggles around his neck.  

“If you’re looking for zombies just pick a direction and walk for a few miles,” Len told her.

“There’s a particular one I’m looking for.  He’s hiding out in this prison,” she said carefully.  

“We’re looking for a man,” Barry said, “his name is Henry Allen.  He was a prisoner here.”

“I can’t say I’ve been paying attention to any men I’ve come across,” Star Sapphire dismissed with a shrug.  

“But there are prisoners here? You’ve seen them?” Barry asked.  The woman just nodded in reply.

“I suppose if we find your zombie we’ll let you know,” Len told her.  He frowned.

Star Sapphire looked at them with suspicion, but not animosity.  It didn’t look like she was going to start flinging purple objects at them again.  “And I suppose if I see a ‘Henry Allen’ I could inform you,” she said, “you have a radio?”

“Yes,” Len said stiffly.

“980,” she said.

Len nodded, like he knew what that meant, though Barry wasn’t actually sure.  “Is there a reason you want this zombie?” He asked, curious.

Star Sapphire was silent for a moment, eyes flickering between the two of them before she spoke.  “It didn’t turn all the way,” she said slowly, “it can talk.  Talking means we can use it to communicate with the Black Lantern and find out what he wants.”

“You mean the Black Hand?” Barry asked, confused.

“Well… yes,” Star Sapphire said.

“You know who he is?” Barry asked eagerly, “Do you know what he wants? Why he did all of this? Why he wants to turn all the continents into zombie-”

“That’s why Hal and I need that zombie,” Star Sapphire said.  And then she was flying again, body vertical and she moved past Len quickly.  She was out of sight soon, swallowed up by the darkness.

Without her glow, the hallway suddenly seemed even more ominous.  Barry shivered again, and moved by Len’s side.

* * *

Barry locked Len into the padded room first.  It was only a moment after he did that the door grew brittle with the cold and then there were several loud bangs.  The door to the padded cell opened with a bang and Len was standing in the doorframe.  

“It works,” Len said.

Barry chewed on the granola bar Len had given him and nodded, not saying anything.  They hadn’t expected it to take them so long to search the prison but with everything so dark, light not being able to penetrate the rooms and no electricity, they were all being forced to bunker down.  

Iris and Eddie were still walking along a highway, Eddie said something about a testing facility for the military that was ten miles away from the prison and he was sure that was where they were heading.  The radio was still working but it wasn’t going to be for much longer considering the distance.  

Iris and Eddie were on their own, it was their job to rescue the others or at least figure out where the others were, scout it out, and get back into range of the communication devices to let the rest of the group know and plan a counter attack.  Shawna’s group locked themselves in one of the larger cells, figuring it was safer there and knowing Shawna could easily get them out.

Len and Barry made their way to a holding area, moving past a storage room full of sedation supplies and restraints until they found a hallway of cells where the walls and floors were covered in comfortable mattress padding and while it was obviously meant for people who were insane and if ghosts turned out to exist Barry was 100% going to be haunted for the rest of his life… the rooms looked comfortable.  

Barry twisted the lock shut and then shut the door behind him and Len.  

“We need to get some sleep,” Len said.  He was undoing the holster on his chest but struggling with the latch.  

Barry stepped forward, undoing it for him.  He took Len’s gun and holster and set it by the door, and then did the same with his own.  Len had managed to pull of his jacket by himself and was bunching it up, almost like a pillow.  He sat down in the cell with a sigh.

Barry did too.  He hadn’t realized how tired he until that moment, when Barry could finally feel safe; he knew they were secure in the small room.  There was nothing in the dark besides Len.

Barry finished the granola bar and tossed the wrapped toward one of the corners.  He lay down on the floor, the padding comfortable underneath his head, but he still felt restless.  “How are you?” Barry asked.  He turned, moving closer against Len’s side.  The flashlight beam was low, but Barry knew they had a spare set of batteries in Len’s coat, so he didn’t care that they were using it when they didn’t need it.  He could see the rise and fall of Len’s chest, the movement of Len’s throat as he swallowed, and Len’s eyes as they turned to watch him.

“It’s not bad,” Len said honestly, “I’m either getting used to the pain or I’m healing.”  Len sighed and looked up at the ceiling.  “I think the Star Sapphire woman was working for Hal Jordan.”

“Okay,” Barry said.  Len’s body was warm against his, Barry could feel Len shifting with his shoulder against Len’s arm.

He lasted only a few seconds.  Barry turned quickly, getting up onto his hands and knees, and then crawled over on top of Len.  He kissed him hard, hands grasping Len’s coat and pulling the man forward.  

Len pulled away, and Barry kissed his chin, then his throat, neck, down along Len’s collarbone.  “Barry?” Len asked voice low.

“Shut up,” Barry mumbled against Len’s skin.  His hands slid down Len’s shirt to his hips, and then lower, moving under the fabric there to grip Len tight between his legs.  His fingers moving, searching, rubbing hard, and Barry moved his head, pressing his mouth against the side of Len’s lips.   _“Len,”_ he whispered, _“fuck.”_

Len kissed him back and that was when the flashlight died.


	32. Iron Heights - Part 3

_After midnight, 2nd day in the prison_

By the time Barry could hear the clink of metal on metal he was almost relieved.  The voice of that man, rambling on and on about everything and nothing, thoughts unconnected and perverse, he was about ready to give up.  All of Barry’s strength he’d reverted into his left hand, shaking ever so gently against the hot metal bindings that held him strapped down.  He could feel it starting to give, but it was too strong in holding him down for him to be able to get away from it.  

Barry needed time.  

Somehow, right as he could feel something cold and stiff against his arm, not unlike a surgeon’s scalpel, there was a loud moan from the zombie on the other side of the room.  The moan had a _voice._  A word.

[Piggy] the zombie’s voice hissed, before going back to hollow, nervous breaths.

“Not _now,_ no no no,” the man holding them prisoner said

[You] the zombie said.

“Oh boy, torn between two patients,” the man squealed with delight.  “I suppose this will have to wait.”  His hand patted Barry’s head, the plastic mask on Barry’s face dislodged ever so slightly.  And then the man was gone, moving away while humming under his breath, content and frightening.

Barry turned his head to the side, then back to his left, right, then left, and then the mask around his face caught on something, a string or rope holding it in place, but it was enough.  Barry’s left eye could see, just barely, and he took in a deep, clear breath of air.

* * *

  
_Evening, 1st night in the prison_

"Let go of my arm," Len sounded angry.  

"I'm not," Barry defended.

"You are," Len insisted, voice coming out of the dark. There were no windows in the room, nothing to see out of, no light source and-

Then a click, Len struggling with something on his leg and the flashlight was on. Len had pushed it up against his leg, angle awkward, but somehow managed and he knocked the flashlight onto the floor.

Barry slowly eased his fingers off of Len's arm.

"Way to keep your cool," Len said, smirking.

The light was dim, but it was something at least. Barry could see Len's face, see the empty four walls around them, and felt safer. Being able to see that there was no danger was different from just knowing. "Shut up," Barry mumbled. He could feel the blush rising on his face and almost wanted Len to turn the light back off. Almost.

"Did that ruin the mood? Or are you going to get back to what you were doing?" Len asked. Smug, he shifted his weight against Barry's side, his intense eyes staring straight into Barry's. Barry met his gaze with annoyance. "Still scared?"

"I'm not-"

"Need me to protect you?"

Barry's face felt hot. "No-"

Len turned, moving his leg over Barry's side and then leaning over the speedster. "Need a big, strong man-"

"Whatareyouevensaying?" Barry said quickly, words bunched together.

"-to save you from all the-"

"IwasnotscaredLengodyou'reannoying."

"-evil scary monsters..." Len said. He paused. "Can I finish?"

"What?"

"Or are you going to keep speed talking when I'm trying to seduce you?" Len asked. He was mostly on top of Barry, his hand pressed against the floor for balance. Barry lay back on the floor, moving his legs just slightly apart and then Len's eyes dropped to watch that light movement.

Barry bent his knee up, eye focused on the way Len was watching him, his ankle brushed against Len's side. A shudder went down Len's back and Barry watched it, feeling something like triumph.

"So you want to kiss me now?" Barry said with a grin.

Len's gaze went back to Barry's face. "What?" He asked, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Just saying," Barry said.

"Of course I wanted to kiss you," Len said, "did you think I didn't want to-"

"We haven't..." Barry swallowed, feeling awkward with Len staring at him.

"I was mad," Len said.

"Mad?"

"At Hartley, not at you. I mean..." Len frowned. "Not Hartley either, entirely. I just-" Len sighed and moved like he was going to sit up.

Barry reached out and grabbed Len's coat, holding him there.

Len looked from Barry's hand to his face with interest. "I wasn't mad at anything in particular, but I think you can understand why I wanted to get my head in order."

Barry said the next words without thinking, "You don't have to hide what you're feeling from me."

Len jolted up with surprise. The motion was too quick for him to adjust, Len was balanced only on one hand and it slipped. He dropped to Barry's chest, chin hitting Barry's collar. It was unexpected, and Len looked so pissed, that Barry burst out laughing. Barry's shoulders shook, and Len glared at him before rolling off onto his back.

Barry grinned brightly, and moved. Len was on his back now and Barry straddled him, reaching out to hold Len's shirt in his hands.

"Getting back to-" Len started to say.

"You look so annoyed," Barry chuckled. Len glared at him and Barry laughed again. "Well," Barry said, "you could have kissed me if you wanted."

"I did want to," Len insisted.

"But you didn't."

"I didn't want to touch you when I was angry," Len said, serious.

"But," Barry said and then stopped himself.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything." Barry felt his face flushing again, and he dropped his head and pressed his mouth on Len's cheek.

Len turned his head, his hand on Barry's neck. He turned his face to kiss him. Barry closed his eyes, breath catching in his throat as Len's lips pressed against his mouth, pushed on his lower lip and pulled slowly away.

"You said something," Len mumbled.

Barry tried to turn his head to kiss Len again but Len's hand pushed on his neck and moved him away. Barry sighed.

"What were you going to say?" Len asked.

Barry answered, the words fast and bunched together, his mouth a blur as he did. The answer came out as a short burst of sound instead of a coherent sentence.

"Cool down," Len said, smirking.

"Stop making jokes about'it," Barry frowned.

Len thought for a moment. "Please," he eventually said.

Barry pressed his face against Len's shirt so he didn't have to look at him. Muttering, voice muffled by Len's chest, he answered, "I thought it was hot."

Len snorted. "'Hot'," he repeated.

"When you punched Hartley," Barry confessed, the blood rushing to his head so fast his ears burned.

"You're adorable."

Barry lifted his head enough to glare at him.

 _"Or_ you're very handsome and strong," Len corrected.

"Shut up."

"Allow me to clarify," Len said carefully, words slow and low as his hand traced down Barry's arm, "you are dissappointed that after I punched Hartley I didn't _claim_ you in some grand, possessive gesture; I didn't kiss or fuck you while yelling out about how you're mine-"

"Shut up," Barry mumbled.

Len blinked. "I was joking."

Barry stared at the wall and didn't answer.

"So you... did want that?" Len wondered, eyes widening in suprise.

Barry couldn't meet Len's gaze. "I was sort of expecting... like when- uh, the Starbucks, against the wall, you know."

"I was trying not-" Len swallowed. "A lot happened recently, I wanted to give you a break-"

"I don't want a break," Barry said. "Why do you think I'd _ever_ want that? You could have asked me."

"You could have told me Hartley kissed you," Len said with a frown.

"Oh-"

"Fuck, I shouldn't have said that," Len sighed. His hand dropped from Barry's arm to the floor.

"It just-"

"I promise to tell you if anyone else kisses me?" Barry offered.

 _"Tries_ to kiss you," Len corrected.

Barry grinned. "So-"

"Going back to how you want angry sex," Len said.

Barry froze. "Um..."

"I like your uniform," Len said calmly. His hand brushed up Barry's thigh, fingers tightening on the muscle.

"Shut up."

"Stop saying that, Scarlet." Len shifted his weight and pulled Barry's thigh toward him, spreading Barry's legs more. "I think you like Captain Cold."

Barry rolled his eyes.

"I think you want me to fuck you like you're the hero and I'm the criminal and you've been lying awake for two nights remembering how I made you scream," Len said, voice low and controlled. His hand moved higher, grabbing Barry's ass.

"Fuck," Barry dropped his head, forehead resting on Len's chest.

"Bet you thought I'd fuck you so hard after you let Hartley kiss you, you wanted me to tear you open, have you beg for it-"

"Sh- should I take off the uniform?" Barry asked.

“I would love to tear it off of you dramatically but I am not exactly sure how that suit of yours works,” Len said.

“Are you kidding the- look, there are clasps at the hips, wrists, and the ankles, it’s just a shirt and pants,” Barry explained.

“Take it off.”

Len had a commanding tone, his voice firm and stiff.  The shadows from the flashlight made his face look dark, half covered in shadow and intense and Barry… loved it.  

Barry’s hands were swift as he pulled off the gloves and then the shirt, tugging it off in a quick motion.  He sat up a bit to get his hands down on his hips, ready to pull of the pants when Len’s hand pulled hard.  Barry let Len position him over the other man, Len holding him close and wrapping his right arm over Barry’s chest.

Len kissed him again, pressing his lips soft against Barry’s, but Barry grabbed his shirt, pulled Len up to mash their mouths against each other.  Then in just seemed to click.  Len straightened up, his elbow supporting him, and kissed Barry hard.  His teeth knocked against Barry’s upper lip, tongue brushed along Barry’s mouth and then Len kissed Barry’s lips, sucking hard.  Barry kissed him back, matching Len’s movements with his own excitement.

He wanted this good and distracting, passionate, like Len wasn’t ever going to want anyone else; Len was always going to be coming back to Barry.

Barry pulled himself up, sitting in Len’s lap, mouth pressed hard enough into Len’s to bruise.  He moaned, and Len’s hand tightened on his hip.  Barry could feel Len, already getting hard, the bulge brushing against the back of Barry’s leg.

Len tilted his head, a better angle for his tongue to slip into Barry’s mouth.  Like he was memorizing him, wanted nothing else but to have Barry and possess him, it was perfect.  Barry shifted his weight, moving slightly to the side.  Len made a noise of protest, deep in his throat, as he felt Barry slipping away, but Barry reached out, the bulge in Len’s jeans an easy grasp from this angle, and the sound was replaced with an encouraging moan.  

Len kissed Barry like he wanted to taste every inch of him, his mouth eager, rough, tongue sliding along the top of Barry’s.  Barry gripped along the bulge until he felt he could cup it in his hands, and he rubbed down with his thumb, squeezing with his fingers.  For a long moment that was perfect, the taste of Len on his lips, the feeling of Len underneath his muscles, but Len grabbed him.  Len lifted Barry up with his hand, turned them over until Barry’s back was on the padded floor.  He was positioned between Barry’s legs, eyes dark and intense and it was amazing.

Len was panting as he pulled back, his hand struggling with the pea coat.  Barry grabbed the coat at the shoulders, thinking to rip it off but he stopped seeing Len flinch.  Barry moved slowly, letting Len ease his arms out of it, and they did the same with Len’s shirt.  Barry carefully pushed the coat and shirt to the side.

They had done it once before, Barry remembered, but the combination of the mess with Hartley that Barry was sick of thinking about, and Len being in pain, were more than enough reason for Len to need rest.  And Len was… well, he was older.  With a very, normally human refractory period.  

“Can you do this?” Barry asked, concerned.  

Len was pulling his belt off with his hand, and he tossed it over to the other shirts.  He looked at Barry with amusement.  “I’m going to fuck you, Barry,” he told him, “until you still feel me inside you days after.  I want you to feel frozen in time, no more speeding through a moment.”  Len smirked at him, long shadows crossing over his bare chest as he crawled forward.

“I put lube in your coat,” Barry said, hardly realizing he was spreading his legs further as Len moved between them.

Len’s thumb brushed over Barry’s bottom lip, and then gripped Barry’s jaw.  He turned Barry’s face, looking at him with an unreadable expression.  “You look fucking good,” Len said under his breath, voice low.  He pulled Barry’s face up and pressed their mouths together hard.  

Len’s mouth dropped to Barry’s jaw, tracing the skin down Barry’s neck more with his teeth than his lips.  Len’s hand ran down Barry’s arm, squeezing his wrist once, before it shifted to the front of Barry’s jeans.  “You’ll call me Cold,” Len mumbled.

It took Barry a moment to understand that.  “Are you serious?”

Len tugged on the front of Barry’s pants, and Barry moved enough to help Len tug off the pants and boots.  “Are you serious?” Barry repeated.

Len surged forward, moving to kiss up the side of Barry’s neck and then at his ear.  Barry shuddered under that touch, and then Len’s teeth brushed against his ear, tugging on the sensitive skin and Barry moaned.   _“Fuck,”_ he whispered, the word catching on his tongue.

Two of Len’s fingers trailed along the curve of Barry’s hipbone, eventually brushing over the trail of hair until Len was rubbing along Barry’s cock.  Barry let out a shaking breath, and Len gripped in tight, stroking fast right away.

“Fuck!” Barry yelled, knees hitting Len’s thighs as his body jolted involuntarily.  He gasped, and then Len’s mouth was on his again, tongue slipping between his lips.  
Len moved hard, and fast, pace unrelenting along Barry’s cock.  It was just fast stroking, not a moment of relief, Len’s face pressed against his own so every breath smelled like the other man.  Barry groaned against Len’s lips.  His hands wrapped around Len’s chest, holding on tight.  

Barry kissed back, hardly able to keep up with Len.  Everything Len did seemed purposeful, good, and Barry thrust up into Len’s hard sporadically, legs shaking and vibrating.  His fingers started to blur.  

He moved faster into Len’s hand, taking short and stuttered gasps of air.  He could feel heat churning in his groin, and he was hard, excited.  Len’s body was strong against him, practically consuming him, melting away his anxieties and filling them up with Len.  Len’s chin was rough, stubble on his face rubbing against the stubble on Barry’s, both of them a little messy, after spending a whole day walking through a dusty prison- there wasn’t going to be any way to wash this off, Barry realized, but the thought wasn’t enough to make him stop thrusting into Len’s hand, moaning low, pleasing tones and clenching his legs around Len’s thighs.  

Barry could feel himself starting to reach a crescendo, the noises he was making sounding a lot like ‘fuck’ and his hands grabbing Len’s back, clenching and unclenching, vibrating in some uncontrolled pattern.

Then Len stopped, moved his hand away.  Barry thrust up into nothing, groaned in protest, and Len kissed his mouth hard once, teeth clacking together, and then sat up.

“C’mon,” Barry begged, trying to push Len forward with his legs.  “C’mon, _please,_ Len-”

“Cold,” Len corrected.

Barry opened his eyes to see Len smirking at him, smug and looking far, far too pleased with himself.  Barry sighed.  “Fuck you,” he said, dropping his head to the floor.  His hips still moved upward, uncontrolled, miniature thrusts asking for attention.  Len dropped his hand to Barry’s waist.

“Cold,” Len said again.

“Fuck you, _Cold,”_ Barry said.  He grinned, and then reached up to hide his smile with his hand.  “Fuck _me,_ Cold.”

Len looked over at the coat, which was just within arm’s reach.  He leaned over for it, holding it in his hands, and then tossed it to the side of the room.

Barry stared.  “You.. the… I told you the lube was in there-”

“Guess you’ll have to get it for me,” Len said, tilting his head.

Barry snorted.  “Fine.”  He dropped his hands to the floor, pulling himself out from under Len.  He moved over just a bit, on his knees, reaching for the coat.  

Len’s hand brushed over the curve of his spine, and when Barry looked behind him Len just seemed fascinated.  Len leaned down, kissing Barry’s side.  “Spread your legs,” Len mumbled.

Barry managed to grab the coat, and then he did, moving his legs apart for Len while rumbling through the pockets.  Len’s mouth moved along his skin, his hand squeezing his thigh.  

“Fuck,” Len mumbled, teeth scraping down the curve of Barry’s ass, “you’ll just do what I say.  ‘gunna fuck you like you should be fucked.  You’re so fucking gorgeous, Barry.”  

Barry managed to find the bottle, stuffed into the back pocket of the coat.  He was about to push it back behind him and then he felt teeth pressing against his skin, a sharp jab and a tongue, Len sucking on him and- Len bit him, on his ass.  Barry dropped his face to the floor.   _Fuck,_ Barry thought, a low rumble in his throat.  Should that have been as hot as it was? Because it just… “Fuck, Cold,” Barry groaned.

At the sound of that name, Len hand gripped him tighter.   _“Scarlet,”_ he mumbled.  Len moved, his body shifting over Barry until his hips were aligned against Barry’s ass.  His cock pushed up against Barry’s ass, the head rubbing up underneath him, and then Barry felt fingers carding through the back of his hair.

“Shit-t, f-,” Barry started, pausing as his mouth started to shake.  He let out a low breath, grinding the back of his hips up against Len.  Len’s hand pushed his face down, Barry’s ass up against his back.  His hands gripped the padding on the floor, but he was unable to get any in his hand and instead his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Condom,” Len’s voice was low, a gravely whisper at his ear.

“No, uh, no,” Barry said, nervous.  He turned his head enough to look at Len.  “Is that-”

“Fuck, okay,” Len mumbled, “god, I love fucking you.”  Barry could feel Len nod against his neck, and the fingers in his hair slid out.  Len’s hand trailed down Barry’s chest, arm wrapped around him, Len’s chest against his back, until his hand ghosted over his cock, Barry jerked forward, sensitive, against his hand, but Len’s hand was gone.  “I miss my fucking hand,” Len growled against Barry’s neck, “shit, give me a second.”

Barry was about to say something sympathetic and then he felt a stinging slap against his ass.  Barry glared, looking back.  “Len,” he warned.

Len met his eyes, smirking and pressing a soft kiss on Barry’s shoulder.  “Noted, biting is good but span-”

 _“Len,”_ Barry frowned.

“Can you open it for me?” Len asked, hand reaching up to tap Barry’s right hand- oh, the lube. Barry sat up on his elbows, grabbing the bottle, he vibrated it quickly in his hand to warm it up.  He popped it open, and immediately Len’s hand reached out, grabbing it.  “Thank you,” Len said, kissing Barry’s ear.

Len pulled back, and then Barry felt fingers running over his cock, gently lubricating them, and he closed his eyes as he felt the sensation.  He closed his eyes, folding his arms in front of them and resting his head on them.

Len was sliding a finger into him a moment later, heavily lubed up, and Barry relaxed into the feeling.  It was gone a moment, then back, sliding more lubricant into him.  He could feel when Len added another, but then Len’s fingers curled into him and Barry dropped his hand to his cock, already on edge.

 _“Fuck,”_ Barry mumbled, encouraging, and he remembered to add, _“Cold.”_

Len chuckled over him, but Barry was more focused on himself.  His hand vibrated slowly over his cock, going slowly, knowing Len hadn’t even started.  This feeling, Len over him, Len’s attention, Len holding him, he’d needed it.  Needed it like an addiction.  Barry wanted Len, following him around, wanted Len at his side every second, wanted Len’s moans in his ear, Len’s jokes, smiles and smirks and _fuck,_ wanted Len inside of him.

“You’re so nice when you’re like this,” Len said, voice low, “love that.  How you’re on your hands and knees for me.  How you take my fingers like you’re hungry for it.  How you’re fucking breathing, you’re heart beating like a rabbit; how you- fuck,” Len’s mouth dropped to the curve of Barry’s back, fingers still prepping him, “love how you want me.  You’re fucking beautiful, Barry.”

“Love you too,” Barry mumbled, pushing his hips back into Len’s hand.  

Len moaned, like _he_ was the one with the fingers at his prostate and vibrating hand rubbing him off- a grin came to Barry’s face at that.  

“Fuck me, Len,” Barry said, reaching out without looking, managing to touch Len’s hip, “c’mon.  I don’t want anyone but you, Cold, fuck, I love _you.”_

Len’s fingers pulled out, that hand moved away, and then Barry could feel Len’s cock up against his ass.  “That’s what I want you screaming,” Len grumbled, and then there was a low moan in his throat.  He pressed in, a slow, languid motion, continually sliding forward but the pace so mind numbingly slow.  “You love me, love me fucking you, love sleeping with me, much as I love you.”

He was fully inside him, hips against Barry, and his hand grabbed Barry’s shoulder to hold him steady.  Len felt good, filling him up, cock curved right at the best place, and Barry loved it; loved this, so much for a moment his chest felt tight.  And then Len was moving, short motion back and quick, hard forward, going out just a bit at first, then slightly more each time, thrusting back forward with a rough jerk but pulling out slow, and Barry really couldn’t think about anything besides what Len was doing.

His hips sent ripples of pleasure down Barry’s spine, to his toes and fingertips, literal vibrations that would have been embarrassing if Barry didn’t know Len liked it but- and then Len was out, pulling backward in a soft movement that made Barry groan.

“Turn around,” Len said, tone low, commanding, and it was… shit.  Good.  Really good.

Barry turned over onto his back, the better position to look at Len from.  He spread his legs out, waiting, and Len didn’t hesitate, moving between Barry’s legs, hand finding purchase against Barry’s shoulder, thumb at the crook of his neck.  He was thrusting forward, face hard in concentration, mouth slightly open as Len gasped short, low bursts of air.  

“Uh, _fuck,”_ Barry whispered, feeling Len inside him again, feeling exposed and used and vulnerable in the best way.

“Pull your legs back,” Len said, the words more a request, and Barry did, hands grabbing at the crook of his knees.

Len’s thrust forward, slow, longer movements like testing the water, and then he was moving fast.  His hips and back a solid pace, the slap of their bodies together absorbed by the insulation of the room, only existing for that moment, the immediate span of time of each single instant, the moments that Barry couldn’t think of anything, not about his speed, just this- this feeling, Len over him.  “Len, I l- _love,_ fuck I love this, need you, _fuck,_ Len,” Barry said, finding just a moment of clarity just so he could babble incoherently.  

Len’s hand moved to Barry’s leg, sitting up, finding the angle easier.  He thrust at a fast pace, hitting Barry’s prostate perfectly, the angle familiar, feeling better than anything, as his hips moved forward.  The pace started to be punishing, intense and too much, and that was what Barry wanted.

Len moved quick, fast movements, hitting the perfect angle and moving back.  And then Len’s back arched upward, moaning, and he was biting his bottom lip.

He kept thrusting forward, cock inside Barry like he was made for it, fast and borderline insane; and _shit,_ Barry stared, watched the way the muscles on Len’s chest and shoulders moved, fascinated by Len’s groans and gasps, the twitch of Len’s left arm, strong grip of his right- Barry loved it- Len- “J- don’t stop, just do’n,” Barry gasped, “sh- Len- _Cold-_ fuck.”

“Good for you?” Len asked, looking down at Barry, looking spend, disheveled, and smug.  His hand pulled Barry’s hands off his knees, grabbed Barry’s thighs to wrap Barry’s legs around Len’s hips, thrusting slowly forward then, like he was savoring it, turning his hips in a slow circle.  

He grabbed Barry’s cock in his hand, jerking once, then his hand curling over the top, massaging the sensitive glands in his fingers.  Barry gasped out a moan that sounded more like a cry, feeling his body jerk forward but not ready to orgasm yet.  The lubricant still on Len’s hand mixed with the pre-come, and _god,_ Len was looking at him like he was memorizing every second and Barry loved that look on Len’s face.  The way Len seemed to think Barry was the most amazing thing.

“Fuck,” Barry said, reaching his hand up to rub the sweat off his forehead, “it’s good, it’s really good, _yeah,_ faster, Len, c’mon-”

Len _slowed down_ , hips still moving forward, pace so long it was practically stalled.  Barry cursed, thrusting his hips up against him, and then Len started stroking his cock harder, faster.   _“L-Len-“_

“I want you to feel you,” Len said, pushing slowly into Barry, a long, low thrust against in prostate, “want to feel you when you’re whole body vibrates, fuck- when you lose control, you have no idea, it feels so good.”

“I do that?” Barry asked, breathless.

Len nodded, and his hand was moving at a fast pace, thumb rubbing swirls against the sensitive veins, like he knew exactly the things Barry liked, that Barry did to himself.  He kept the pace even, rising his hand over Barry’s cock, sliding his wrist over the top to drive Barry crazy, fingers enjoying rubbing fast and smooth over the sensitive head, and then lowered the hand, starting it back up again in a smooth flowing motion.

“Okay,” Barry said, head falling back onto the floor.  The muscles in his legs tightened, pulling Len closer into him, and Len swiped the thumb over the top, taking a moment to massage the most sensitive places, and Barry’s toes curled.  

“You look so beautiful right now,” Len whispered, hand still moving fast, and then he was moving forward, thrusting his cock into Barry, quick and fast movements.  His hands didn’t let go, didn’t give Barry a second to ease into the sensations, god- it felt so good- he- Len-

“Love the way you move your legs for me, love how you want me, I have always had the most fun toying with you, but _fuck,_ I love to fuck you, god, I love you, Barry, _fuck,_ I love you, everything about you-”

Barry felt his orgasm like a wave, a slow feeling that built up in his groin, and then his hands were stiff, tight, he pulled Len into him.  He felt himself letting go, his mind on fire, as electricity surged over his skin, sensitive and intense, he stared at Len as he came, eyes mesmerized by the other man’s icy stare.

It felt good, better than anything, his stomach jerked three times rapidly, tension coiling up like a knot in his shoulders, and that vibrating feeling, he could barely sense that, he held onto it as long as possible.  He could hear Len’s gasps, nothing else, the room locking them in total isolation, and then the tension fell a way.  The softest, cleanest sensation of blankness came over him, and Barry sighed.

Then Len was kissing him, fierce and passionate, mouth pushing against his own like Len was starving for it.  “Beautiful,” Len mumbled against Barry’s mouth, and then Len was sucking on Barry’s lower lip, teeth gently brushing the skin there, and the other man was still moving, jerking hard and fast into Barry.

It was so good, the feeling coming back, hard and heavy and just too much, Len filling him up, being everything and Barry let out a strangled moan.  He could have stayed there forever, didn’t want it to end, but needed it to- the tension gone, everything else an encore and he just- it was too much.  “Len, my mouth,” Barry mumbled, eyes half closed, and he pushed at Len’s hips and Len moved with him, sliding out with a groan.

“You okay, fuck, are-”

Barry sat up, turning himself, tucking his legs behind him.  “Yeah,” he said, moving forward with a slow, almost drunk fluidity, and he grabbed Len’s hips.  Len’s cock was… fucking beautiful, even more beautiful now, sensitive, painfully hard, red and pulsing and Barry took Len in his mouth quickly.

“Scarlet,” Len breathed out like a prayer, and his hand was soft on Barry’s shoulder.

It wasn’t hard to get his throat to start vibrating, Barry moving his head back and forth slowly, Len’s gasps a beautiful sound.  Len tasted… oh that was a weird thought, really, weird, but then Len just tasted like himself- Len moaning under every movement Barry made, fingers clenching Barry’s shoulder when Barry’s vibrating tongue ran along his length.

Len was gasping, thrusting forward, murmuring apologies and praises, and Barry understood what Len meant when he called him ‘beautiful’, because fuck, Len was- Len was so good.  Amazing, this was so good and Barry loved him, he loved Len so much it hurt.

Len mumbled a warning, and gently shoved at Barry’s shoulder to pull him away.  Barry looked up, tongue swirling over the cock filling up his mouth and throat, the scent of Len familiar and strong in his mouth, nostrils, every breath of air Barry took.  Their eyes met, and Len groaned, _“fuck,_ Barry,” and then he was thrusting forward, shaking, and spilling into Barry’s mouth.  

Len kind of tasted bitter, hard to describe but it was strong, and it was warm- and Barry had seen this in porn but never actually done it before, or had someone cum in his mouth before and that was… weird sensation, ‘not entirely unpleasant’ was the only way he could describe it.

Len pushed his hips back, and his cock come out of Barry’s mouth with a pop, and Barry just swallowed, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.  

“Oh _fuck,”_ Len mumbled, staring at Barry with amazement.

Barry shrugged, tilted his head and rubbed at a crick in his neck.  He rested back, moving his legs in front of him, and turned his elbows to crack his back.  Len moved to his side, dropping to the padded floor beside Barry with a loud sigh.  

“Good?” Len asked gruffly, closing his eyes.  He reached out for Barry’s closest hand, and Barry grasped it tight, fingers interlacing together, and then he shifted until he was lying beside Len, heads lying on the floor next to each other.

“Yeah,” Barry said with a nod.  

Len lifted Barry’s hand to his mouth, giving him a soft kiss before setting their hands on his chest as he sighed again.  Len turned his head, and Barry did too, pressing their foreheads together.  Len’s eyes were closed, his face calm, hard lines grown soft.  “I do love you,” Len told him.

Barry nodded, forehead frowning as he thought.  “I love you,” he said, honest.

“’ve never said that to anyone but Lisa, you’know,” Len mumbled.  He squeezed Barry’s hand, and then sighed for the third time, and he looked close to falling asleep midsentence.  “Love you.”

Barry smiled and closed his eyes.  “Goodnight, Cold,” he whispered.  Len’s chest shuddered with a laugh.

“Night, Flash.”

* * *

 

_Afternoon, 2nd day in the prison_

Barry rubbed his hand through his hair, the hood at his neck.  Sleeping on it, and eventually sweating because that room they slept in was not well ventilated and ended up being a sauna by the time they woke up, made his hair stick up in all directions.  He scratched the back of his neck.

“Careful,” Len reminded.

Barry, admittedly, was holding the hunting knife in the hand he just used to scratch his neck but he wasn’t clumsy enough to actually nick himself with it.  He turned, holding the flashlight in front of him so Len could see Barry roll his eyes at him, and then went back to lighting the hallway they were walking down.

“Very mature,” Len said.  He coughed into the sleeve of his pea coat, the dust in the place having gotten to him.  They hadn’t expected the search to last much longer, and Barry knew they had to go back today.  They didn’t have any water.  

If they didn’t find any people, from his father to flying purple Kinky Boots, then Barry felt like he needed to call it off.  Go find Eddie and Iris and leave the prison behind.  
It happened quickly enough that even Barry, the speedster, was blindsided by the attack.  One moment they were on the top floor of the psychiatric ward, Barry leading the way with the flashlight, Len behind him holding the gun, talking about meeting up with Shawna and her group if no one found anything and then-

Then the giant hand.  Grey, decaying, fingernail the size of an eyeball, it was just…

The hand reached out of the darkness, grabbing toward him, and Barry stared at the rotting flesh in the moments he had of clear thought.

So it was Grodd.  He was right.  Grodd was still huge.  Grodd was dead.

The undead monster stepped out of the shadows, a terrifying fixture that was just there as suddenly as he hadn’t been.  In one moment Barry had been sure the building was empty and then, unnaturally silent for the huge creature, over a thousand bounds of graying sinew and rotting flesh ambled forward.

“A gorilla,” Len whispered beside Barry.

Grodd’s face was twisted, even more anger and hatred in his expression.  His eyes were black and ferocious, staring at them with fierce intelligence.  One hulking, muscle-bound arm snapped forward, knuckles brushing on the dusty floor, and the giant gorilla took a slow step forward.  [Flash] he said with recognition.

 _Of course,_ Barry thought, _Grodd is the zombie who can talk.  The zombies are mind controlled by the Black Hand but Grodd has psychic powers-_ powers that weren’t attacking him.  Last time Barry had faced the creature his mind was assaulted with the force of the other creature’s abilities, but there was nothing.  No mental attack.  He reached out to grab Len’s arm and took a slow step back.  Barry met Grodd’s gaze.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered going to the zoo with Joe and Iris and Joe telling them something about not looking the animals in the eye.  Barry remembered gorillas, social creatures, sitting around in shade while nursing bristles in their hair, standing far away from the glass where the humans came by to observe them locked in their cage.  The glass said the words, inscribed in childish scrawl, ‘ _Don’t look the gorillas in the eye_ ’.

Barry stared at Grodd, and Grodd stared back.

“Yes, he’s the Flash,” Len said.

Barry tightened his hand on Len’s arm.  “Don’t,” he warned.

[Flash] Grodd said.  Only his words seemed to go through the mental barrier.  Barry didn’t know if Grodd was choosing not to attack him, or the gorilla was using up most of his strength fending off the mind control of the Black Hand but… Barry wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

“Len,” he said while grabbing Len’s arm.  He pulled Len toward him, and there was only an instant before Barry saw recognition in Len’s eyes.  Barry grabbed him, arms wrapping around Len’s chest.

And then he called the lightning too him.  Len’s arm around his shoulders, Barry held him tight and ran.  It was easy to carry the weight while running, somehow, the force distributed and Barry also, he just felt strong when he ran.  He was still careful, Len was like a stone statue, clutching him, and Barry held onto him as tight as he could.  His feet moved quickly, the walls, doors, stairs, all objects just becoming blurs of existence, something both present and non-present.

There was something different, a flash of sensation, here and now-

The speedforce calling at his feet, a lightning like knives working along his toes, uncomfortable, grazing him, calling to him.  But he… Barry couldn’t.  For a moment everything was dark, nonexistent, running down the stairs, across the yard, but it was there and it was not.  It was a field and then it was a prison.  It was-

 _No, no no no no no,_ Barry thought, staggering out of the connection with a rush of fear.  He grabbed Len tight, disconnecting to the speedforce like ripping off a scab.  It hurt, felt like leaving something good- for a moment he wanted that back.

But then he was stumbling through the prison yard, Len clutching his back.  He fell to the ground, the weight of the other man knocking him over, and Len dropped beside him.  
Len curled up, hand grabbing his mouth and he stared at the grass with wide eyes.  He looked like he was about to vomit.

Barry rolled over, moving out of the way quickly before pulling himself up to his knees.  “Crap,” Barry said, sighing and looking up at the sky.

He’d almost forgotten it was the middle of the day.  The image of Grodd, rotten flesh and yet still… alive, it hung in the back of his mind as he stared at the clouds moving over the blue sky.  The day looked like every other nice, Saturday afternoon going through the park- it looked like a day for pretzels, lemonade, chatting about his latest case and Iris’ latest project, listening to Cisco making jokes about metahumans, Caitlin bringing up their latest projects, the group laughing about current events it…

The clouds moving across the sky were bright, the sun on his face felt like a relief, and for a moment Barry could pretend they were far away from the prison even though the walls stood over them, casting checkered shadows on the ground; the day was clear enough Barry could see the skyline of Central City and he focused on that.  

He wished he’d been with Len back then, wished there could had been lazy, Saturday afternoons in the park- wondered if that would even have been possible with Len’s background.  “Are you okay?” Barry asked, dropping his gaze.

“Yes,” Len said, still doubled over, hand on his stomach, but his head was looking up past the gate.  “We’ve got some sort of company.”

“What?” Barry followed his view.

By the side of the wall, parked on their side, was a military style vehicle.  It was tan, a large truck with a covered back, equipment hanging on the side and six wheels, the kind of a police van that had been donated to local police departments when the military had no more use for it, though it looked sleeker than the few types Barry had seen before.  

There was a man, holding a gun, standing by the side of it.  He was wearing a bullet proof vest and black combat gear, only a hundred feet away.

Barry steeled himself, hoping Len would be able to handle it if they were forced to run again.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it is technically Tuesday in my time zone, but sorry it is so late. Rough week, but hopefully it wont be like that soon and I can do more of the writing I've been planning on.


	33. Iron Heights - Part 4

_Afternoon, 2nd day in the prison_

It had been years and years of waiting for this moment.  Since Barry was eleven years old he’d dreamt of the moment he could run up to his father, no prison glass in between the two of them.  

Since he was a child his visits with Henry Allen were sparse.  That was intentional, a decision made by Joe West and a child psychologist who’d both been firm in the belief that Barry was suffering from delusions his father had placed in his mind.  From the time he was eleven until eighteen, Barry saw his father twice a year.  On father’s day and near Christmas, when Iron Heights opened their doors to family visits and Joe West didn’t have the heart to ignore Barry’s pleas.  

Henry knew he was innocent, Barry knew Henry was innocent, and the separation from his father, the inability to hold him, to tell him everything about his life, it hurt.  It felt like he’d lost two parents but was able to reach out for one, gain momentary comfort, and then have it torn away again and again.

When Barry was eighteen he was offered scholarships all over the United States, Canada, and England for science majors but he stayed in Central.  Now eighteen, he could visit his father once a month and he always did.  It still wasn’t enough.  Barry would never be satisfied having part of a father, having Henry Allen through glass windows and phone conversations, seeing a pale man in prison slacks and a wistful smile.  He loved his father, missed him constantly, and that pain drove him to stay in Central City and pursue a career in forensic science, hoping beyond reason he could reverse a clear-cut sentence from over a decade ago when no one but Barry ever believed Henry’s innocence.

There was never going to be a way to get back the time they’d lost, the years they’d spent apart, while Barry grew up and Henry was imprisoned.

Seeing Henry step around the military vehicle was such a shock that Barry froze in place.

It was still bright outside, there were three men in body armor holding guns, Len was standing beside Barry with his gun outstretched, tense and ready to fight.  Henry looked… it was so hard to think of his father objectively and make comparisons.  Henry always looked pale, worn out, beaten down but happy and this moment was no exception- whatever changes the apocalypse had done to his father Barry really couldn’t say.

Henry was wearing the same military gear as the other men, bulletproof vest strapped on his chest, an automatic gun strapped over his shoulder, heavy black boots and brown, camo gear and it was strange.  Barry’s mind jumped to an image of his father going hunting, though they never had and never would have, it was one of those things that occurred in father-son movie relationships and Barry had thought about.

Playing baseball, talking about his first kiss, father-son workdays, just clichés after clichés running through Barry’s mind, a lump in his throat as his brain conjured up a thousand things he’d always imagined being able to do when Henry Allen was finally out of prison. All things they would never be able to do, because there were undead people walking around trying to eat them all, some malevolent dark force behind it attempting to infect the earth, and Barry had grown up already without him.

He just froze, and Henry stared at him with pain in his eyes.

“I don’t think any of you want to be picking a fight here,” Len said, confident and harsh. His gun whirred in his hand, ready to shoot.

“Whoa,” said a voice from inside the military vehicle, “hold up-” and a person was stepping out, a man without a bullet proof vest, someone with movie star scruff and a pilot’s jacket.  “We’re just here for the talking zombie and a kid named Barry Allen.”

Len stepped forward.  “And who-” he started to say.

 _“Barry,”_ Henry said, dropping the weapon from his hands and letting it fall to his side.  “You look good, son.”

Barry’s chest hurt and the lump in his throat made swallowing painful, but he couldn’t help but grin, his entire face bright, eyes squinting, mouth too wide.  He couldn’t seem to be able to talk.  Henry Allen was alive.

“I knew you’d be out there, somewhere,” Henry said, voice gentle, “Nothing can keep you down, slugger, not for long.”

“That’s the Flash?” The man in the pilot’s jacket asked.

“Yeah, that’s Barry, Hal,” Henry said, swallowing.  His eyes didn’t leave Barry’s face.  “Barry uh,” he gestured to the three military looking men beside him, “this is Shawn, Thomas and Al, and this is Hal Jordan.  We’ve been working with Hal and Carol to find this zombie-”

“The gorilla,” Len said curtly.  “Are you Henry Allen?”

“Yeah,” Barry said. “That’s… my dad.”

“Fuck,” Len mumbled to himself.

Henry gave Barry a smile, wistful and sad, and now that Barry’s mouth was working his legs were too. He raced forward, the lightning a shock to his system, like a spark running along every inch of his skin.  In the barest portion of a second, Barry covered the short distance between himself and his father and he wrapped his arms around him.

Henry was returning the hug the second the lightning faded, holding Barry close and squeezing him tight enough to bruise.  Barry returned that, burying his face against his father’s shoulder, closing his eyes.  Henry was alive and Barry felt like the luckiest person in the world.

“Joe is okay,” Henry said.  He squeezed Barry tight and then pulled away, arms on Barry’s shoulders to look him in the eye.

“Uh, yes, the detective is back with the main force at the base.  Along with those people we intercepted,” Hal Jordan said, voice somewhat by Barry’s ear.  The man’s voice was a little faded, like he was speaking to someone else, when he said, “You gunna shoot me with that?”

“Did you see Lisa? Caitlin or Cisco?  Mark and- Eddie and Iris left to look for them,” Barry said. He was clutching his father’s sleeves tight, holding onto him and he hadn’t even realized.

“Lisa? I don’t know who that is… I remember Caitlin and Cisco had people with them.  We left the base not too long ago, but we haven’t heard about Eddie Thawne or Iris,” Henry Allen said.  

“Lisa Snart?” Barry clarified, worried.

“Like Leonard Snart?” Henry asked with a frown.  “That man with the ice gun?”

Barry instantly felt the color draining from his face.  “She has brown, curly hair,” he tried to explain.

“There was a man and woman with Caitlin and Cisco,” Henry remembered.

Barry nodded, suddenly anxious.  “Yeah.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” said the cocky voice of Hal Jordan, “but Flash, your friend is still pointing that gun at me.”

“What?” Barry turned around sharply.  Len was definitely still holding his gun, ready to fight. “Len, what are-”

“They’re the ones who kidnapped Lisa and the others,” Len said, eyes narrowing as he watched Hal Jordan.

“This is my _dad,”_ Barry said, frowning.

“Who is acting on orders from General Eisling,” Len sneered as he glared at Hal.

“I’m not on orders from Eisling,” Hal Jordan explained with a frown, “Carol, Firestorm, and I are down here searching for the zombie that can help us communicate with the Black Lantern.  When we lost contact with Firestorm we found Eisling and his people so we’re working together.”

“‘Lost contact’,” Barry repeated, nervous. _Firestorm, that’s Ronnie and Professor Stein._

“Well, we split up inside the prison,” Hal said, frowning, “the guy with the masks, and there was this presence-” One of the other military men mumbled something into Hal Jordan’s ear.

It was a little overwhelming seeing Hal Jordan, since the man had become the apocalypse’s equivalent of a celebrity.  His radio was the only sense of outside life and existence that Barry and the Rogues had had for a long time, and the stories of the survivors some sort of reassurance that the rest of the world hadn’t turned entirely insane.

But his father?  Henry Allen, looking worse for the wear and tired, but… his father.  Henry put his arm around Barry and Barry sighed, leaning against him and closing his eyes.  Henry was alive, the best news Barry had ever heard.  Alive with a heartbeat and a sad smile.  

“Our people haven’t checked back in since the morning,” Len said.  He lowered the cold gun an inch, not exactly giving any leniency.  “We’ve attempted to stay in radio contact.”

“Your other group is at the base,” Hal told him.

“We have more people in the prison,” Len said coldly.  He looked at Barry, and Barry could see Len was nervous despite his outward calm exterior.  “The group your company took hostage.  Two scouts we sent after them, and there was another group searching gen pop and the guard towers.”

“Carol is inside right now, she ran into two people last night-” Hal started to say.

“A woman in a skin tight purple costume?” Len interrupted.

Hal nodded.

“She ran into Barry and I last night in the psych ward.  We found that zombie you’re talking about too and I don’t see how purple-thigh-highs could miss it since its literally a thousand-pound gorilla.”  Len frowned at the three, hardly speaking men in military uniform around them. Those men kept their hands ready on their weapons and so did Len.

“Her name is Carol,” Hal said with a frown.

“You dress her yourself?” Len raised an eyebrow.

“Considering _your_ friend, the elusive Mr. Barry Allen's outfit here,” Hal said with a cocky grin as he gestured to Barry’s Flash uniform with his thumb, “should we be throwing stones here?”

Henry Allen looked apprehensive, his hand dug tight into Barry’s shoulder.

“That’s true,” Len was saying.  “Do you have contact with this Carol, Sapphire woman?”

“No.  Right when Eisling brought those friends of yours in we were heading out to check on her.  She was only supposed to be surveying the perimeter but Carol… well she doesn’t always listen to me.”  Hal shrugged.  “Definitely not since she got her lantern ring,” he added under his breath.

Henry looked at the prison, and Barry remembered they’d left Grodd wandering somewhere.  The gorilla was close enough by that Barry was still nervous thinking about it. “Dad?” He asked.

Henry turned his face back to Barry and gave him a wistful smile.  “Heya, slugger,” he said, soft.

“If you’ve been with Eisling, why haven’t you tried to contact Iris and the others in Central City?  To let her know her father is alive and that you’re safe,” Barry asked, the question on his mind.

Henry swallowed, frowning.  “We don’t have power back at the base and Eisling didn’t want to spare men to send a message.  I would have left if I could but I’m one of two medical doctors.  Eisling might have a bad way of going about it but we’ve been helping a lot of people in the area.  People have needed relocating after fleeing Central, and the cities around here aren’t small either and have been hit pretty hard.  We’ve been distributing resources and trying to fight against those monsters.  Eisling’s men needed me and Joe wasn’t willing to leave me alone here.”

Barry nodded, figuring that made sense.  He knew right now that he should be worried about the safety of the others but his father was beside him and his mind was going haywire at the thought.  Henry Allen.  Alive.  The relief was…

“We do have running water back there,” Henry said with a chuckle, “you smell like you could use it.”

Barry shrugged.  He had had a bath not long ago, the Rogues had plenty of ways of getting baths running, either by melting ice or producing a mini-rainstorm indoors, and he hadn’t done much since except… oh.

Barry looked at Len with wide eyes and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck.  “Dad, I need to tell you something,” Barry said quietly.

“These people of yours,” Hal asked, “do they know their way around the prison? Can they fend for themselves?”

“All my people are strong and my friend Mick knows this place just as well as I do,” Len defended, “there’s no way they’ve gotten lost and if something got the jump on them then it’s not something you should dismiss.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“My people are supposed to stay in contact. So far it’s been your people who keep separating us,” Len said angrily.

“I have a job here,” Hal said, “I’m not responsible for Eisling.  If your people are in danger though, I can help.”

Barry raised his voice, joining the conversation and taking a step away from Henry.  “We need to find them.  I mean, Grodd is in there,” Barry made a sweeping gesture to the prison, “and you guys keep talking about some other person.  We haven’t seen any of the undead though.”

“Who is Grodd?”  One of the military men asked.

“He’s a metahuman gorilla with advanced neurological capabilities,” Barry answered while Len said at the same time, “A fucking massive monkey.”

“Um… what?” Hal asked.

“A gorilla with telepathic powers,” Barry explained, “which can explain why he’s the only zombie who can talk.”

“Wait, our mark is a gorilla?” Hal said, confused.  “You’d think some of the Intel we got about the talking zombie would have mentioned that.” Then he paused.  “Oh.  Oh! Oh, wait.  I think they did say he was a gorilla, now that I’m thinking about it…” Hal laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You need Grodd because he can help you communicate with the Black Hand,” Len clarified.

“The Black Lantern, yes,” Hal said.

“What makes you think you can even hope to capture it,” Len said, looking at Hal Jordan with annoyance, “perhaps your purple go go dancer girlfriend could manage but I don’t think three men with guns, a doctor, and yourself should really be running out there alone.  And I don’t see why Barry and I should help.”

“Of course we’re going to help,” Barry said.

Len frowned at him.

“Grodd could be the key to finding out what the Black Ha- Lantern.  We already know the Lantern is trying to infect the rest of the planet and I’m not sitting back and letting some psychotic puppetmaster fulfill his dreams of world domination,” Barry explained, first to Len and then Hal.  “I’m on board, but we need to find our friends too.”

“The Flash, right?” Hal asked, looking at Barry with a grin.  “I’ve heard of you, you’re pretty impressive.”

“Thanks,” Barry said.

Hal held out his hand, “I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot.  I mean, look, the Doc over here can vouch for Carol and my character I think.”  He winked at Henry, who rolled his eyes.

Barry took Hal’s hand and shook it, and then Hal extended his hand to Len.  “You help us get this Grodd and find Carol, and we’ll work to make sure your people are safe.  Deal?”

Len glared at him, taking a deep breath and letting it out.  “Do you really think you’ll be an asset to your team?”

“Anything Carol can do, I can do better and green,” Hal said with a cocky laugh.  “But… seriously. They call me the Green Lantern though I’m more like a part of The Green Lanterns, which I can explain but maybe after we have everyone back at Eisling’s base safe and sound.”

“He can fly,” Henry said with a nod, “though the rest of what he can do it’s- hard to explain, but he’s like you, Barry.”

“Deal?” Hal repeated, arm outstretched.

“Fine,” Len said after a short glance to Barry.  Barry nodded.  “Deal.”  Len looked at Hal’s hand and suddenly seemed extremely pissed off.  He dropped his weapon, the sudden movement making the three military men tighten theirs, and then slid the cold gun into its holster. He reached out, grabbed Hal’s hand, shook it once with his mouth curled up in an angry snarl.  “Let’s go then?”

“Sure…” Hal trailed off, looking at Len’s arm.  “Oh! Sorry,” Hal said as he looked at Len’s left arm and the bandages there, “I didn’t think-”

“Grodd is in gen pop,” Len lied, the words flowing easily.

“Gen pop,” Hal repeated.

“General population, it’s the building to our right,” Henry explained.  “Barry, did-”

There was not much time, not with the nagging worry that Shawna or Hartley hadn’t checked in on the radio to let them know if their team was fine.  Grodd would be right where they left him, in the psych ward, so Barry could tolerate the lie for now as long as it meant the group was safe.

“So what is the other threat you mentioned?” Len was asking Hal.

Barry figured he had time, if only a little, and he was very good at making use of time if- things were going to be weird, strange.  His heart was racing at the sight of his father and Len so close together.

“Dad,” Barry said, and then he grabbed Henry’s arm, speeding him over about two hundred feet where they were separated from the others and right up against the fence.  Barry did it without thinking, using his powers to move Henry, and when he let go his father swayed and stared at Barry with wide eyes.  Henry clutched at his stomach and Barry felt a pang of guilt.  “I’m sorry,” Barry blurted out, grabbing his father’s arms.

“It’s alright,” Henry said with a chuckle, clutching his shirt.  He shook his head as if to orient himself.  “It’s a very strange feeling.” He glanced back at the others, who were now in the distance, and took a moment to look at the sky with a smile on his face.  “You know, I never came back here sense I left.  I had my fill of this place, was more than happy to leave it behind me but hearing that you might be out here?” Henry smiled.

Barry’s nose and the back of his eyes burned with emotion.  “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Me too.  We thought you were dead,” Henry said, and he pulled Barry into another tight hug.

“I couldn’t run,” Barry said.  He grabbed Henry’s shirt, clutching the material, feeling safe and nervous at the same time.  

“Joe told me that was a possibility, something Cisco Roman or Dr. Snow said,” Henry said, “something about how you’re powers work.  The cold stops you? Speaking of…”

Barry tensed and his heart pounded so hard that for a moment Henry was still as stone.  Then that heartbeat of time ended, and the world slid back into focus like clicking play on an old cassette player.  

“…that’s Leonard Snart isn’t it?  I’ve seen him in passing before.”

Barry blinked.  “You’ve met?”

“He was in prison once at the same time as me, awaiting transfer to an out of state maximum facility.  He escaped during the transfer but I remember him from when he was here,” Henry explained, “people like that have a reputation that proceeds them.”

“‘Like him’,” Barry repeated.  He stepped back enough to look his father in the eye.

“People who’ve broken out of prison,” Henry said.  “Though I know he’s done more than that, but in prison so has nearly everyone else.”

“I have to tell you something,” Barry told him, feeling his nerves sinking into his gut. Henry couldn’t care, couldn’t possibly, but Barry still felt like he was going to be sick.

“It’s urgent,” Henry guessed.  He watched Barry’s expression nervously.  “What’s wrong?”

“What?”

“Something’s wrong. What you plan on telling me. Barry, I,” Henry said, his voice understanding, “since you’re traveling with Leonard Snart and were asking about his sister and Mark Mardon, I can guess you’ve been surviving with those criminals.  I’m not disappointed in you for that.”  Henry smiled again, and he reached out to rub Barry’s hair.  His hand sent Barry’s already messy hair off in even more directions.  “I’m never going to be disappointed in you.  I trust your decisions and if working with those people brought you back to me alive then honestly, I’d love to make them a cake.”

“Oh,” Barry said. He rubbed circles into his forearm, feeling awkward. “Len, his sister, and Mick found me right after everything happened.  So I’ve been staying with them for awhile.”

“That’d be around four months, wouldn’t it?” Henry guessed.

“Yeah,” Barry said.  The hand rubbing circles into his arm was moving at a blur.

“The prisoners were all locked up in here for a month, the guards shut the gates and left.  Eventually people managed to break out and everyone left, and that was when General Eisling and his men came by to restore order.  They managed to convince most of the prisoners to find work at the military base, and I couldn’t leave once they realized I was a doctor.  When Joe came we’ve uh…” Henry chuckled, “we were planning an escape back to Central.  Your friend Snart could have been a big help.  Neither Joe or I really knew how to start.”

“I’m with Len,” Barry said, forcing the words out as fast and intelligible as he could.

“The man doesn’t seem to have much of handle on this situation,” Henry continued, “I don’t know what you’re doing here-”

“We were looking for you and Joe!”

Henry paused.  “All of you?”

“Yeah,” Barry said.

“Even Snart and his team?”

Barry rubbed his temples and stared at his father’s shoes.  He forced himself to take a deep breath.  “I’ve always been interested in guys the same way I have girls,” Barry said, trying his best not to mumble.  The words came out shaky and unsure.  

“You…” Henry reached out, grabbing Barry’s shoulder.  Barry could tell Henry was trying to get Barry to look him in the eyes but Barry couldn’t.  “Why… Barry it’s all right.  It’s fine.  Of course I don’t mind, but why did you wait until now to tell me?”

“I haven’t really dated a guy since high school,” Barry said.

“This…” Henry took a deep breath.  “Barry, it’s fine. I love you, no matter who you choose to be.  You’re my son and I’m proud of you, you understand that, don’t you?”

Barry smiled, feeling a bit relieved.  “Thanks.”

“Will you look at me?” Henry asked.

Barry took a deep breath.  “So…” He finally managed to meet Henry’s sympathetic gaze.

“I’m guessing this couldn’t wait until after we find the others because you’re seeing someone?” Henry asked, and Barry nodded.  “Oh, jeez,” Henry said.  He ran his hand through his hair with a pained expression on his face.  “You know uh… look I don’t really know a thing about Leonard Snart, I mean it’s just hearsay, and even everything I heard from you and Joe it’s- I don’t know the man personally.  And he is very handsome, I think? So I-”

Barry found himself wishing he could turn invisible.  The blood rushed into his face in a wickedly pronounced blush that made his cheeks and ears burn.  “Uh…”

“So… him?” Henry asked, watching Barry’s face carefully.

Barry just nodded.

“Is he,” Henry started to say.

“DOC!” Hal Jordan yelled, waving his arms wildly to get their attention.  “We need you two over here!”

“We can talk another time about it,” Barry said, trying to convince himself to calm down.  “I just… you’re right here, and he’s right here so you have to… I mean you had to know.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Henry said earnestly.  “So Iris and you aren’t a thing anymore?”

“What?” Barry laughed, “No we’re just friends, and Iris and Eddie are together and she’s pregnant anyways so-” He froze, eyes widening when he realized what he said.

“Iris is pregnant?”  Henry repeated.

“Crap uh… that’s not, I didn’t mean that.  I mean, don’t tell Joe,” Barry said, feeling guilty.  

“Wow,” Henry stared.  “This is really a lot to process.”

“We should go,” Barry said, glancing at the others who were obviously waiting for them.  Time had run out and they had to go find Shawna, Hartley, James, and Mick; who knew where they would be.  Or what had happened.  It really was selfish to be going on about things like this… to be so elated his father was here and alive but others were currently in danger…

“Are things between you and… Leonard, are they serious?”  Henry asked, genuine and concerned.

Barry swallowed.  “Yes,” he told him.

“You’re using protection?” Henry asked.

Barry’s blush returned, ferocious and bright red. “Uh…”   _We used to, but lately I’ve… uh…_ How exactly was he going to explain _that?_  “We’ve been together for… awhile and I… I know what I’m doing.”  Maybe that was enough?

Henry frowned at him, and then turned to look at the others.  “We’re not done here,” he said, “I can’t believe you…” Henry stopped, sighing and running his hand over his head again.  “No, I don’t mean- you’re old enough to make your own decisions.  I shouldn’t be making rash judgments, I have no idea what you’ve been through and you never even thought to tell me you…” He looked downtrodden, sad, like life had thrown him another bad break and Barry was so sorry.

“Dad,” Barry said, “we’ll talk after this. You, me, and Len?”

“Yeah,” Henry nodded.  “After this is over.”

* * *

In reality, what happened was that they _did_ find Hartley and Shawna pretty quickly.  They were in the main floor of the general population building, surrounded by… things.  People. Prisoners.

Not quite undead, not quite alive.  Barry jumped to push those creatures away from them, monsters in some crude, masks made of cloth with sewn on, floppy pieces of fabric that looked like ears.  Whoever they were, they weren’t human anymore.

They came out of the cell blocks, wordless and angry the same way the undead would, and there were nearly twenty of them.  

The thing was, right as Hartley was yelling, “They’re monsters!” there was a surge of green light and… the problem was just… over.

 _Is this how people feel when I use_ my _powers?_ Barry wondered, staring at the scene in front of him in awe.

Hal Jordan was flying in the air, just like Star Sapphire had been.  His clothes were gone, disappearing into a beam of green light and instead the man was wearing a skintight green suit.  He had a hand outstretched, one with a ring on it, and curled into a fist, and from that first extended ropes of green light that clutched for those twenty, mask-wearing prisoners, gathered them up in a group, and tied them together.

“Well, that is useful,” Len said from his place at Barry’s side.  

Barry felt it was a little too useful.  And he didn’t like that admiring way Len was looking at Hal.  Feeling aggravated, he walked over to Shawna while keeping an eye on the Green Lantern. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Hartley answered for her. _“We’re_ fine.”

“Where are the others?” Shawna asked.  Barry hesitated, confused, because he was about to ask the exact same thing.

“Iris and Eddie left to follow the other group,” Barry reminded.

“I just thought they’d be back I mean,” Shawna gestured to the four men, the three military people and Henry, in the combat gear, “didn’t they come back?”

“Not yet,” Barry told her.  “Mick and James?”

Hartley folded his arms and a blush rose across his face.  “Whaddaboutem,” he mumbled, looking away, and it was so uncharacteristic of him that Barry stared.

“James… freaked out,” Shawna said, side-eying Hartley, “um…and Mick went after him.  This was only an hour ago, after we woke up.”

Barry frowned.  “Why?” He asked.  He saw a shadow passing over him and realized it was Len coming to stand next to him.  Green Lantern was ordering some of the military people to open the cell blocks, apparently planning to stick those zombie-mask-like-people inside there for the time being until they… figured out what the hell they were.

“What?” Shawna asked innocently.

“Why aren’t Mick and Jesse with you?” Len asked, voice demanding.

Shawna looked at Hartley, who seemed very focused on looking anywhere else.  “James Jesse went to search on his own, when Mick found out he went after him to bring him back.  We were waiting for them by the entrance to the hospital wing when these pig people came out.”

“Pig people?” Barry asked, looking over at Green Lantern and the prisoners.

“They _oinked_ at us,” Shawna said, disgusted.

“Why the hell would Jesse leave the group without talking it over first?” Len asked, infuriated. “What kind of hairbrained idea was that?! Why didn’t one of you tell us?”

“We knew you’d be pissed off,” Shawna defended.  She glared at Len, but reached out without looking to grab Hartley’s wrist.  Hartley put his hand over hers without thinking.  Hartley looked somewhat sick, and Barry felt guilty immediately.  He wanted to do something but things between him and Hartley were just… odd.

“You should have told me,” Len snapped at her.

“We thought Mick would be coming back soon!” Shawna yelled.

“Well he obviously hasn’t! Why would Jesse ever do something as stupid as that?!” Len asked, furious.

“Because he’s a fucking idiot!” Shawna said with loathing, “He’s an asshole and an idiot and the next time I see him I’m shoving a goddamn stick in his eye-”

“It’s uh…” Hartley held Shawna’s hand tightly, and with his other hand was petting a small, round ball of fur near his shoulder.  “Does it matter?”

“If the four of you couldn’t handle being a goddamn team for one fucking night-” Len started to say.

“We slept together,” Hartley interrupted.  He looked at Len with a glare.  “I _slept_ with James last night when he woke up he had some childish hissy fit and stormed off and _that’s_ what happened.”

Barry stared in surprise.  “With _James?_  But he always…”

Len _laughed._ The sound was loud enough that Hal and the others turned to look, pausing what they were doing.  Shawna looked like she was about to explode with fury. Barry pushed Len’s arm, and Len stopped.  

“Sorry,” Len said, shoulders shaking a bit, “it’s just… with all the shit James was saying…”

It _was_ a little funny.  The anger on Hartley’s face wasn’t, however, and Barry wasn’t going to betray his friend by laughing at it.  After all Barry really… what would he have done if Len had run off after sleeping with him?  The longer he thought about it the more painful that sounded.  

“How?” Barry thought, curious.

Hartley frowned and said something in another language that Barry didn’t understand, and neither Shawna or Len did either.  Hartley seemed to draw some sort of confidence from their confusion, and he straightened his back and said with a snarl, “He liked me.  We slept together.  He seemed perfectly fine about it at night and then he woke up and started acting like a fucking idiot and then stormed off saying he’d find Henry Allen’s cell himself and when he got out of there he’d ‘fuck forty bitches’.”

Len laughed again, and Barry punched Len’s arm to make him stop.

“So I am utterly at a lost as to where he is or where Mick Rory went,” Hartley explained, “Shawna and I were caught by these pig freaks not long after and then you showed up.  We haven’t found out anything besides a cell block registry, which says Allen’s cell was in the third block and…” he dropped his haughty look for a moment to give Barry a sad nod, “we haven’t seen anything about your father since.”

“My father is over there,” Barry told them, pointing.

Shawna groaned.  “What?!”

“Apparently,” Barry said apologetically, “he was with Eisling the whole time.  He only came back with the others because he heard I was here so…”

“Well let’s get that fucking turd, James, and get the hell out of here,” Shawna growled, “I want to see Mark.”

“We need James, but after that we have to capture Grodd,” Barry told them.

“Grodd,” Len explained, “is a gigantic, zombie, telepathic gorilla.  Which isn’t a joke.”

“So…” Shawna said, while Hartley looked at Len like he was certain Len was lying but he was afraid to say so. “Uh… congratulations on finding your father?”

“Thanks,” Barry said brightly, before cringing as he looked at Hartley. “Um… I’m sorry, Hartley.”

“I’m not,” Hartley said with contempt.  “Just bring James back alive because I don’t plan on letting that moronic fool get away.”

Len laughed and Barry nudged him again.  

“So what… what should we do?” Shawna asked, looking to Len.  “I don’t want to go searching for them alone.”

“I can find them,” Barry said, glancing back at the Green Lantern. “Look, I can search this whole place in minutes I-”  He was interrupted when Len grabbed his arm, pulling them to the side.

“Give us a minute,” Len said, walking over toward one of the cells.  They stopped just outside of it, Len glaring at Barry and Barry had no idea why.

“It’s true, I can search this place faster than anyone else,” Barry defended.

Len watched him carefully, eyes searching intently over Barry’s face.  “Yesterday you hated the idea of going off alone,” Len reminded him.

“Well-”

“Yesterday the flashlight turned off and you nearly had a panic attack,” Len added.

Barry glared at him.  “And today I’m going to search this place for the others.”

“Why?” Len asked.  He looked like he wanted to reach out for Barry and then he stopped.  Len looked over at the Green Lantern and Henry for an instant.  “I don’t want you going off alone,” he said, clenching his hand to his side instead.

“I told my father,” Barry said.

Len tilted his head.  “About?”

“Me and you,” Barry said.

“Oh.”  Len had a hard expression on his face.  “I guess we’ll have to talk to him later.”

“Yeah.”  Barry had no idea what Len was thinking.

“Then we…” Len sighed.  “Shit,” he said to himself, “I really need to be thinking about Mick and the others right now, Barry, _fuck.”_  He rubbed his hand along the stubble of his jaw, and said, “Did he… what did he say?”

“I think it went okay.  He trusts me,” Barry said.   _Dad did seem fine with it,_ he mused, except… Barry felt the blush returning, and he looked away from Len’s face but then his eyes dropped to Len’s hand and that didn’t help at all, remembering what they were doing just the night before. And Barry had… had swallowed…so…  

“Except…” Len pried, sensing something in Barry’s demeanor.

“Nothing,” Barry said, too quickly.

“What?” Len said, tense.  

“We have to focus on-”

“I can’t fucking focus when I’m worried about you,” Len said.  “That’s… I love you and you… it’s just that I know you love your father so if anyone could talk you out of being with me-”

Barry’s eyes widened.  “For real?  Len, that is not going to happen,” he said with an edge to his voice.

“Of course you’d say that now-”

“Stop being insecure do you… do you think I’d have sex with you if I didn’t want to stick this out?” Barry stared at him.  Len didn’t answer, just frowned, and that was an answer in and of itself.  “He didn’t try and talk me out of it,” Barry said.

“Okay,” Len said. He looked at the others again, and as no one was looking he reached out and brushed his hand along Barry’s cheek.  “But this nonsense about going out alone-”

“I’ll be back before you can say ‘Mississippi’,” Barry said, reaching out to his neck. Grabbing his cowl, he pulled it over his face.  “Sooner we find James and Mick, the sooner we get Grodd and get out of this place.”

“Barry, don’t-”

Len looked like he was going to grab him, hold him still and make him stay by his side, but Barry was gone before Len could.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barry like... stop being jealous of Hal, take a page out of your boyfriend's book and chill. Goodness.


	34. Iron Heights - Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: general spookiness, and medical related horror.
> 
> (also gorillas are frightening, i am so afraid of grodd, oh boy, why did i include grodd? i hate hate hate gorillas ummmmm....)

_Afternoon, 2nd day in the prison_

It actually felt strange to run as fast as he could, though his speed was hindered by running through rooms and doors, he was still sprinting around the rooms looking for a sight of Mick or James.  He’d followed a trail of ash marks from the second to third floor but they’d ended with no preamble.

Barry ran back through the basement, searching for any sign of the two.

Running like this felt wrong somehow.  He’d spent so long pressed up beside Len, not wanting to let him out of his sight, and the last time he’d run far had been when he’d been following the Reverse Flash.  He was still in the same building, but Iron Heights was a big area- the whole place housed thousands of prisoners as well as the staff that kept them secure.  

After the ashes, he didn’t see as sign of Mick or James, and he stopped on the stairs at the fifth floor for a moment just to think.

His father was alive.  And _thank god-_ the others were all safe, or as safe as they could be with Eisling watching them.  And he finally met Hal Jordan. And he guessed he could stop acting weird around Hartley-

Barry pushed himself off of the stairs, jumping down to one of the doors that he opened with a jolt, he ran down that hallway, eyes moving fast and searching for any sign of anything.

He was contemplating just what the hell those… things downstairs were, if they were people or masked zombies or combinations of the two, when he heard a shout.

Barry froze, listening, his momentum almost pushing him hard against a wall. He held out his hands to skid to a stop and then waited.  That sound… definitely a man’s voice.  Someone loud, yelling muffled words Barry couldn’t quite make out. It sounded…

Barry dropped to his feet and pressed his head against the floor.  The sound grew clearer.  It didn’t sound like Mick, so it wasn’t a familiar voice, but Barry couldn’t say whether or not the voice shouting was James.

As he raced down the stairs to the next floor, his mind rapidly conjured up the little he knew about James.  It was just… weird.  The guy made a lot of jokes, preened like… well, like an Italian male stereotype, wore flashy outfits and apparently helped the other group survive in this nightmare.  Also, James really didn’t seem to like Len or Barry _or_ Hartley.

Barry guessed he was wrong, probably shouldn’t have judged a man so quickly.  It wasn’t really Barry’s business what was going on with Hartley, but Barry didn’t like the short bit of whatever Hartley had said. Hartley was his friend.  Barry didn’t want to see Hartley with some guy who couldn’t stand him.

It made Barry uncomfortable just thinking about all of this, and not for the first time he sent a mental apology to Iris about having put her through the same mess.

Barry jumped off the stairs, landing with a bang, and slammed open the door. He had to slow down to hear another shout- when he ran too fast, he couldn’t hear things at normal speed- and then he did, coming from the door directly to his right.  

‘Hospital Wing’ the sign above the door read, though it was half off of it’s hinges and there was a splash of blood over the sign and the door with a visible break in the middle. Barry recognized that pattern immediately.  He stopped, pulling out the hunting knife from it’s holster and pointing to find the right angle.

Someone had been shot, recently, while standing in front of this door.  A silencer would have covered up the sound enough to shoot someone, unnoticed, while they’d been busy downstairs in the main floor of genpop.

The person who’d been shot, according to the break in the blood splatter and by Barry making a guess, was slightly over six foot.  He figured James was probably closer to six foot exactly, or a little under, which meant the person shot was likely Mick.

Barry swallowed hard, and then bent down slightly to figure out the angle of the gunshot.  Another shout, this time Barry clearly heard, “Bastard!” and then a slew of rapid fire, foreign curses that he guessed was Italian.  

 _Please,_ Barry thought, morbidly pointing at an upward angle with the hunting knife, mimicking a gun, _please not the head, not the-_

 _Thank.  God._ The gun had been shot at an upward angle, from someone approximately five foot six inches, but the upward angle, the slant of the blood, and the way it hit the sign seemed to indicate Mick had been shot in the shoulder.  Painful, enough to make the firestarter unconscious, but not enough to kill him.  

What would Henry think of Mick and Lisa?  They were… they were practically family at this point.  Would they get along?

 _Focus! Focus, focus, focus!_ Barry chided himself.  So much had happened today, his stomach hurt, and he had anxious jitters making his hands shake.  Barry stashed the knife back in it’s holster.  

He tried the door to the hospital wing.  It was locked.

Barry called the lightning to his side and ran quickly, checking all of the five floors in this building for another door.  No go.  This was the only door into the hospital wing from this building.  

Standing back in front of the bloody door, Barry thought for a moment.  Len could open it, he was a thief after all, Len could pick any lock or safe according to his CCPD file, and know Len could just freeze it and shatter it.  So-

The shout this time was clearly a cry for help, Barry heard something more similar to a scream and then another curse and he decided there wasn’t time to go back for Len.

There wasn’t enough room in the hallway for him to build up the speed that would let him phase through the door, but Barry figured that if Len could blast a door open with cold than maybe he could do the same with heat.  He grabbed the handle of the door, and then turned it fast, and faster, faster, hand moving and vibrating quickly.  It wasn’t long before the heat generated made the metal under his fingers start to have the consistency of chocolate on a hot day.

When he thought it was enough, Barry banged on the door, thinking it would open. It didn’t, he was thrown back from the momentum and hit the floor.

“Riot proof,” Barry mumbled, _maybe I should go back for Len and the others-_

And that was when the door just… opened.  The creaking of the hinges as it moved sounded like a scream of its own, and the door opened to a long hallway, the divider between this building and the hospital wing, with poorly lit, dull yellow lights casting shaking visibility.  There was no one that Barry could see in front of him.

Barry swallowed, more than a little anxious. _I’m going back for Len,_ he thought instantly, but then there was another scream.

James.  And even if Barry didn’t like James at all, he needed to get James back at least so Hartley could kick the acrobat in the balls so...

The breath he took in shook his shoulders involuntarily.  But Barry clenched his fists, took the knife out of the holster but left the gun… and he stepped forward.  Leading with his legs, the strongest, quickest, part of himself, gave him just the right amount of confidence to step right into the door.  Barry could do this.  Just quick, find James, rescue Mick, get back to the others and lead them to Grodd so they could all get the hell out-

Falling to his knees was unexpected.  Barry thought he’d tripped.  The knife clattered to the ground when his hands reached out to stop his fall.

He pulled his legs up to stand again, and the second blow to his head Barry actually felt.  He was knocked to the ground again, this time his chin hit the floor.  He tried to reach for the knife but the third blow came, this time on his hand, and Barry heard the cracking of broken bone.

 _How,_ Barry thought, and the answer came to him with painful clarity.

He’d been so clearly expecting the prison to be frightening he’d ignored the obvious.   _Shit,_ when everyone found out… All this time, and he still forgot to check his surroundings- the person who’d opened the door had obviously been standing behind it and- how could he be so dumb as to- should have gone back for Len-

Next blow was to his head again, and Barry didn’t fall unconscious, but his vision watered and blurred and his body felt numb and warm.

The door on the far side of the hallway opened, and one of those things from downstairs, the zombie like creatures in the paper masks, stepped through.  It nodded to something above Barry, and Barry dropped his head to the floor.

* * *

_After midnight, 2nd day in the prison_

_First time he regained consciousness,_

Everything felt sickly and wet.  Barry could hardly see to turn his head, and then it was only because he heard a voice moaning at his side.  His stomach hurt, queasy and wrong like he was carsick, and Barry opened his mouth to take deep breaths but it was difficult.  Something over Barry’s mouth restricted him and the air shuddered into his lungs, stale and difficult.

Barry could hear the sound of his own mouth gasping for breath, whatever was over his face was by his ears too.  The groans from beside him sounded too even and still to be human.  Whoever was next to him moaned like their throat was dead, the sound more like the whistle of wind around trees than a human voice.  

There was a zombie close by. It was close enough which even through the bindings on his face Barry could hear it breathe.  The thought was almost victorious, but Barry couldn’t remember why.  “He-” Hello, he was trying to say, but the taste of plastic on his mouth and the dryness in his throat made him erupt into coughing fits.  It hurt; and his body felt weak.  Barry needed to eat something; he could tell that right away, his hands were starting to shake.

“Ooooooooooo,” came a voice from the side, something gravely and low at a forced high pitched tone, and it felt… wrong.  Everything about that voice felt wrong.

Barry pulled at his arms and legs, realizing quickly he was trapped in a chair.  His body was aching, from the pain on his throat and something on his chest, and the lack of energy.  The bonds were soft but still holding him stiff to a barely cushioned bed, but the air around him smelled like… a doctor’s office?

It was hot.  Ever since the rain had come, breaking the spell of cold weather, the world had been light, airy, but comfortably chill and yet now Barry felt like he was in a sauna and… maybe that was just his face.  His face was sweating, he could taste it in his mouth, feel it running down his forehead into his eyes, from his jaw to his chest.  Hot, hot, hot.

The rest of his body was covered, the familiar feeling of the Flash uniform suddenly unbearably restricted as his face was trapped and bound and he couldn’t feel any breeze on the rest of his body.  His breath came in faster.  He was scared.

“Look-y look-y,” the unnaturally high-pitched voice squealed.  There was the sound of metal scraping across metal and the unmistakable moan of the zombie grew louder.  “Gor-illas and tedd-ys but I got myself a doll-y.”  
Barry couldn’t scream out Len’s name.  He could hardly breathe.

The calloused hand holding onto his arm wouldn’t move, and Barry could feel someone pushing up against him.  He was trapped, no matter what Barry did there was something clogging him down.  It was like part of his mind was unreachable.

Barry wanted to move but he couldn’t get his mind to comply.  His hands were weak and shaking so that every effort took more energy than it ever should have, pushing against his restraints made him gasp out for the little air he could receive, and attempting to vibrate and phase his wrists free only compounded the hypoglycemia.  He needed to eat but he hadn’t in far too long.  Over a day, and during that time he’d used his abilities enough that his body was receding, collapsing, starved for energy until he was nearly helpless.

That voice sounded again, not saying anything, just a man speaking in a high pitched squeal and Barry didn’t understand.  The voice was mumbling about a surgery, about a zombie who needed to be ‘fixed’ and a doll, and it was frankly too much.

Overwhelming.  Barry’s mind not able to handle it.  He barely had enough air to breathe, the consistently growing headache had reached a point where he was ready to pass out.

“Dun dun dun dun,” the man hummed to himself, and the zombie groaned.

If Barry could escape he could- where had Len gone?  It was so hard to think.  The last thing Barry remembered was… the zombie.  The one who talked, that familiar faces that…

He was ruminating on that when he felt a hand clap over the mask on his face.

_Second time he regained consciousness,_

By the time Barry could hear the clink of metal on metal he was almost relieved.  The voice of that man, rambling on and on about everything and nothing, thoughts unconnected and perverse, he was about ready to give up.  All of Barry’s strength he’d reverted into his left hand, shaking ever so gently against the hot metal bindings that held him strapped down.  He could feel it starting to give, but it was too strong in holding him down for him to be able to get away from it.

Barry needed time.  

Somehow, right as he could feel something cold and stiff against his arm, not unlike a surgeon’s scalpel, there was a loud moan from the zombie on the other side of the room.  The moan had a voice.  A word.

[Piggy] the zombie’s voice hissed, before going back to hollow, nervous breaths.

“Not now, no no no,” the man holding them prisoner said

[You] the zombie said.

“Oh boy, torn between two patients,” the man squealed with delight.  “I suppose this will have to wait.”  His hand patted Barry’s head, the plastic mask on Barry’s face dislodged ever so slightly.  And then the man was gone, moving away while humming under his breath, content and frightening.

Barry turned his head to the side, then back to his left, right, then left, and then the mask around his face caught on something, a string or rope holding it in place, but it was enough.  Barry’s left eye could see, just barely, and he took in a deep, clear breath of air.

_Third (and last) time he regained consciousness,_

Apparently breathing was the wrong thing to do. Barry woke up with a head banging as if from a hangover.  He had no idea how much time had passed, a few hours or perhaps even longer, but his body still shook with exhaustion.  He was starving.  Maybe not actually starving. Maybe actually starving.  

He knew that his stomach hurt, and that there was something odd on his face, and that there was heavy breathing in the corner of the room that sounded like an animal.

Grodd.  They’d been looking for Grodd.  That was good news, if Grodd was somewhere here as well than it meant that the others would be looking for him no matter what.

Barry tugged at the restraints on his hands and legs, but they held him back.  Why was he this hungry?  He’d lived for months on rations, eating as much as he can and rarely being satisfied, the last time he’d been this hungry…

It was hard to think with the headache, but Barry managed.  The last time he had been this hungry was in the Cult, when he’d been recovering from fighting off the effects of the gene neutralizer. His body must be waking up so often because whatever anesthetic or tranquilizer the man holding them captive was using wasn’t enough to beat his metabolism.

Oh man.  He wanted Mick’s pancakes.  He could practically taste them already, hot and fluffed up, blueberries heated and melted to the point where they just popped in his mouth, letting juice run down his tongue, sweet and fruity.  

[I know you awoke]

That would be… that would be the zombie gorilla.  Barry felt his heart rate speed up, and he closed his eyes shut tighter, trying to imagine blueberry pancakes again but that daydream had faded.

[The surgeon has gone]

 _Surgeon?_ Was… was Barry… strapped to an operating table in a hospital?  Barry felt around, the little space on his hands, and pushed at the restraints, noting they were soft and large and entirely unlike police handcuffs.  Yes.  He was strapped to an operating table in the hospital wing of the prison.

[Can sense you.  Can’t control you.  Trying too hard to keep bad man orders out of my brain.]

Barry’s mouth was too dry to talk back.  The idea of a conversation with zombie Grodd was scary enough, but here he was, helpless and stuck.

[I understand your family searches for me]

Barry lurched at the restraints, sitting up as fast as he could, but he was thrown back down.  The plastic smelling mask over his face was held tight by what seemed like rubber bands- he had no idea what the purpose of it was.

[I understand this.  I must choose where I stay, for my body decays around me and my usefulness wanes]

Poetic.  For a gorilla.  

[Raise two of the fingers on your hand if Cait-Cait travels among you]

What.  Barry shook his head, trying to get the mask off, but he just could not manage to see.  Kate-Kate?  He didn’t know anyone named Kate, and the name sounded childish and silly- weird coming from the sentient, rumbling, animalistic voice in his head. No. What he needed was to get out of his bonds, find where this surgeon was keeping Mick and James, and get the fuck out of there.

[I sense confusion.  That is familiar to me, my days are often filled with confusion.  All I desire is my family returned at my side]

Why- couldn’t- Barry- break- free-

There was a thick, huge hand on Barry’s arm.  A hand that Andre the Giant would be jealous of.  It was callous, strong but gentle, and it only lay down on Barry’s side as if to acknowledge it’s presence.

[I have broken free of my bonds.  I could release you]

There was a giant, undead gorilla standing over him.  A twitch from Grodd would break Barry in half.  A bite from the creature would turn Barry into one of the undead.  Barry’s pulse beat as fast as a hummingbird.

[I desire my father.  I desire Cait-Cait. Offer me resolution or I shall tear off the heads of the companions lying beside you]

Mick.  James.

Kate-Kate, what was-  

Barry jolted with recognition and threw up two fingers on both his hands.  Caitlin.  Caitlin helped raise Grodd with Harrison Wells/Eobard, she had a special connection with Grodd, and Grodd must remember her.  Barry understood what Grodd wanted immediately.

[Think of her. Let me see her face and truth]

Barry did, imagining Caitlin as he’d last seen here, leaving her behind to wait at the outside of the sewers.  

Grodd grunted in recognition, the sound having a bit of a wheeze and undead groan to it, but sounding like an animal. That gigantic hand, a single fingerpad the size of a baseball, moved to Barry’s wrist and tugged hard.  The bindings holding Barry back fell away like paper under Grodd’s movements.  Grodd did the same to Barry’s leg, and then the gorilla reached across Barry’s side, his elbow and coarse hair brushing against Barry’s stomach which just felt so weird, and then Barry was free.

Grodd grabbed Barry’s back, pulling him up to a sitting position.  Barry felt like a limp ragdoll, the movement highly uncomfortable.  The coarse pads were against Barry’s face, and then before Barry could yell out in fear and protest, the plastic mask was ripped from his face.

It _hurt,_ it felt like the skin on the side of his face and below his chin tore, and Barry was pretty sure he lost some hair along with it.  But the plastic scent was replaced with the cool, metallic tinge of the hospital and the dead which Barry was never more happy to breathe in.  

He gulped for air greedily, filling his lungs in a way he hadn’t been able to before, and some of the shaking left his limbs as he did.  His vision slowly adjusted to the low lighting around him, and the first thing Barry saw-

Huge, brown, angry, undead eyes glaring into his face.  A gorilla, Mighty Joe Young-size, glaring at him, face inches away from Barry’s face and torso.  

[FastRed,] gorilla Grodd said.  The eyes didn’t blink, since he wasn’t alive anymore, and shit if there was a way to make this moment even _more_ nightmare fuel it was the fact Grodd was a _zombie._  With a mouth.  Inches. From.  Him.

Barry’s mouth was still too dry to speak, but he mouthed ‘Grodd’ and the gorilla nodded like he understood.

[We leave]

And Grodd moved away, lifting himself up, the low light illuminating each hair on his undead body, seeming to ripple with gray motion.  The smell of decay went away, just a bit, as the gorilla moved.

First, Barry saw the room around him and realized he was right to think he was on an operating table.  

This was a hospital room; jam packed with what looked like storage, tables just like the one Barry was sitting on covered in auburn stains.  There were two figures on tables beside him, each wearing things on their heads- but unlike what Barry had, those weren’t made of plastic. It was that same cloth hoods that the beings in the main floor had been wearing.

 _Mick,_ he thought, remembering, _James,_ as an afterthought. Barry pushed himself off of the table, legs wobbling slightly, eying Grodd as he did so.

Grodd didn’t move.  Barry moved quickly over to Mick and James, taking off the masks first.  They both looked unconscious, there were visible needle marks on their arms where the sleeves had been rolled up, and Mick’s shoulder was bleeding and untreated.  There wasn’t much Barry could do… he couldn’t carry them.

[I shall carry them] announced the giant, undead gorilla.

And Barry had no other options.  So he stepped back to let Grodd carry them.

* * *

Grodd slung James and Mick over the same shoulder, one on top of the other, and huffed through the building. All they had to do was find the exit.

Barry was worried, because however that surgeon had trapped Grodd the first time had obviously worked.  Barry wasn’t entirely opposed to the though of finding this surgeon who had shot Mick, who had turned those people into strange monsters, and who’d been more than willing to do the same to him and his friends- but at the same time he wanted to leave. Find his father. Get a glass of water.

But they had Mick, James, and a gorilla. A giant- giant- gorilla that Barry was more than a little afraid of.

They found the exit of the hospital wing before the entrance to general population, Grodd ended up leading the way, Barry’s legs were shaking and he wasn’t sure he could do much else at this point.

 _Here was the Flash,_ Barry thought cynically, as Grodd pushed open the main doors of the hospital wing with a grunt and stepped outside, _who called himself a hero, but actually…_

 _Isn’t._  Barry realized, frowning, as the doors swung shut behind Grodd.  He ambled forward, reaching for the handle of the door with shaking hands.  He struggled to pull it open, his whole body aching and stomach rumbling with pain.

 _What have I done lately?_ Barry thought.  He could only partially open the door, had to slide his shoulder in the opening and then kick the rest of it open.  The shaking was getting worse, his eyes having difficulty staying open.   _What have I done for people?_

 _I failed to stop this from happening.  I sat in a van doing nothing for three months.  I slept with my enemy.  I got caught at the homestead.  I killed- I KILLED a woman at the cult, I couldn’t save Len from hurt when the raiders came for us… all I’ve done is sit around, stand still, eat, fuck, and pretend the world was okay,_ Barry swallowed, hard.  He managed to pull his aching body through the door, feet shaking a bit as he stepped outside.

The field was dark, lit up only by the stars and sky, hard to see as it was. He knew, only because  of before, that the getaway military vehicle was across the entire field and by the fence. It wouldn’t take long for Grodd to make his way there.  

 _Len took me in because he thought I would protect his group.  I didn’t.  Hartley thought I would save him, Shawna, and Mark, have been constantly in danger.  All I did for Iris was surround her with criminals and thieves while she needs to be somewhere safe to start a family and…_ Barry ran a hand through his hair and took a shaky step forward.  He wobbled on his feet and had a hard time focusing on the ambling black form in front of him.   _Even Grodd is going to be more useful than me._

_My father. What kind of choices have I been making? Why haven’t I protected everyone- it’s my job and I failed._

It was almost a relief to hear that gunshot, loud to the point of deafening .  It rang across the field, shocking Barry and making him jolt to attention.  “Wh-” He tried to say, his throat scratching painfully.  

He saw something like a shadow pass in front of him, distorting his view of the ground for a moment.  Right in front of him, Grodd roared in pain and tossed the two men aside.  The gorilla pounded its undead chest in anger, the white canine teeth of the beast flashing in the light.

Barry couldn’t manage to scream out for them to stop.  And the shadow-

He turned around, just in time, and saw a pot-bellied man, wearing a cloth pig mask, standing behind him holding a plank of wood over his head ready to smash it into Barry.  Barry blinked, and the man’s movement’s slowed along with the rapid pace of Barry’s heartbeat sending lightning into his body.

The plank of wood was a crude weapon, there were needle ends nailed to it, sticking out and dripping with blood and other substances, scalpels jammed into the wooden, and other sharp objects that shone with the light from the stars over them. The man’s cloth mask hid his face, he wore a prisoner’s uniform and over that the apron he was wearing was covered in old and new bloodstains.  

This was the surgeon.   _Be careful what you wish for,_ Barry’s mind supplied, cruelly.  He stumbled back from the blow just in time, his speed saving his life from the horrible, Saw III mess of needles and pain his body would have been had he-

“You!” The surgeon in the cloth mask squealed, suddenly in real time, “Were not! Supposed! To! Leave!”

He swung with his makeshift, wooden club again and Barry jumped out of the way.  His foot turned, ankle almost twisting, but Barry just managed to right himself.  

Barry wanted out of this place.  He had far too much or Iron Heights to last a lifetime and this just… cinched it.  He wanted to commission Mick to burn this lace to the ground. He’d probably roast s’mores over it while it burned and… oh man. _Food._

The surgeon in the cloth pig mask gave a squeal, and he reached out this time with just his bare hand, fingers curled up like a claw straight at Barry’s face.  Barry stepped aside on instinct, grabbed the surgeon’s wrist, but then the surgeon shoved his arm to the side and that movement sent Barry sprawling to the floor.  

He wasn’t strong enough to fight the man back hand-to-hand, his body was still fighting off the tranquilizer or whatever it was this man had drugged him with.  

The surgeon raised the wooden club again, needles catching the shine of the moon in a morbid flash of light, and slammed it down.  Barry pushed back, the club landing harmlessly on the ground beside him with the clink of breaking glass.  The surgeon was in a frenzy and he pulled the club up easily, ready to hit Barry with it again.

Barry rolled, his foot slamming into the side of the surgeon’s ankle, and he twisted the whole weight of his body against it.  Even with his body weak and aching, that force made the surgeon drop to his knees.  Barry jumped, trying to grab the club out of the surgeon’s hands.

The surgeon knocked him to the side.  He raised the club again.

And then there was a blue streak of light and the surgeon’s hands were frozen. The man fell backward, a sharp squeal of pain as he cried in a tantrum, “No _no_ no no _no!”_ and raised his ice cased hands in front of his face.  

Barry scrambled away from him, grabbing handfuls of the grass in his hand to help move, and then there was a hand on his side and he just knew it was Len.

Barry sighed with relief.  Len’s hand tightened, and he saw Len drop to his knees, pull Barry’s arm around his shoulder- Len’s face was hard, angry and tense, but Barry grinned with utter exhaustion and pure gratitude.  Len lifted Barry up to his feet.

“It’s been hours,” Len said, expecting a reply.  

Barry couldn’t talk, everything still hurt.  He raised a violently shaking hand up to Len’s neck and pulled Len’s forehead against his own. Barry closed his eyes, his nose brushing on Len’s cheek, Len’s breath hot against his ear.  

“Barry,” Len said, the word soft, carrying a clear amount of fear.

Barry kept his eyes closed.  Felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.  He wanted blueberry pancakes, Mark’s albums playing, Len’s arms around him, a cool glass of water in his hands…

Barry blinked, saw green light around a huge, furious animalistic figure in the distance, and then closed his eyes again.  He fell asleep not like he was dreaming, put like flipping off a switch, and everything was dark.

* * *

The room he was in was dark, a solitary electric lamp was sitting on a stool in the corner.  A rolled out mattress was underneath the lamp, and as Barry looked at it while he woke up, he briefly saw his father coming into focus.  Henry Allen looked exhausted, the beard on his face hard grown long, his wrinkles more heavy set, dark lines under his eyes, but there was a soft smile on his face, one almost hidden by the shadows from the light overhead, but Barry could see it.  

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his father sleep.

The roof of the room seemed like it was about to collapse, it hung low and lumpy overhead and it took Barry a moment to realize that was because he was in a tent.  Barry was lying on the floor, dressed in a large black ARMY shirt, covered in a sleeping bag.  

“You’re gunna make Len’s hair turn white, buddy,” gruff, familiar.  It was Mick Rory, and Barry turned his head to the right to see the firestarter, looking pale but otherwise normal and alive.  Mick’s shoulder was taped up and bandaged, resting outside of the sleeping bag, and he was holding a water bottle.

Barry felt better, a lot stronger. He vaguely remembered waking up to eat something, but the swimming nature of that memory felt more like a dream.  Mick Rory, wincing a bit in pain, reached across himself and had another water bottle in his hand.  He tossed it next to Barry.  

Barry opened it and took a drink, the water was lukewarm and clear- it felt heavenly.  Barry forced himself to relax.  He wasn’t sure where Len was, but at least he could see his father and Mick beside him.  “Where are we?” He asked, throat still a bit hoarse but nothing near as bad as it had been before.

“Military ‘base’,” Mick said, not hiding his scorn, “Just a bunch uh tents though.  They’re’nt any better off than we were in the RV.”

“Are you okay?” Barry asked.

Mick shrugged, scratched at the unkempt stubble on his face.  He set the water bottle down for a moment so he could shift his body, getting his weight off of the bullet wound in his shoulder.  “Nah. Maybe, feels like I was thrown at a wall,” he said, rubbing his nose, “but I’ve been shot before.”

“Cool,” Barry said without thinking.  “I mean, not… not cool.  It feels terrible.”  Mick didn’t say anything to that, and Barry felt the need to elaborate.  “The Green Arrow’s shot me before.  I have accelerated healing though.  No scars.”

Micknodded. He shifted again, groaning and tapping the bandages on his shoulder.  “s’ that your old man?”  Mick asked, nodding to Henry sleeping by the lamp.

“Yeah,” Barry said.

Mick looked at Henry for a moment, then at Barry, curiosity on his face.  “We can always use more doctors,” Mick mumbled to himself.

“I told him about Len,” Barry said.  He looked around the tent again as if expecting to see Len sitting in one of the corners of the room.

Len and Barry hadn’t been apart since the cult.  It was… weird.  Barry had the strange sensation of feeling naked without him beside him.

“Woulda been weird notta,” Mick said.  He sighed.  “I used to have the game.  We’d go to bars and Len would be heading off alone.  This fucking apocalypse is messing with the social order.”

“What?” Barry said, immediately interested.

Mick seemed to be more talking to himself as he grumbled, “Me single, not Len, what the-” Mick rolled his eyes, grabbing the water bottle and drinking it like taking a shot.

“What did you and Len _do_ together when you two hung out and weren't working?” Barry asked with curiosity.  

Mick laughed to himself.  “I ain’t dumb kid.  I’m not getting my balls frozen when Len finds out about I’ve been gossiping to you,” he said. He turned, looking at Barry.

It was an odd moment, Barry decided, sitting down in a tent across from the pyromaniac who had tried to kill him- though they’d spent so many nights sleeping together in the same vehicle, he really couldn’t say why this moment seemed different.  “Len doesn’t really talk about the people he used to date,” Barry said.

Mick seemed to understand.  He nodded and something like sympathy was in his eyes.  “That’s just ‘cause there weren’t any,” he said.

“There had to be someone,” Barry pressed for information.

Mick shrugged.  “Not as long as you two have managed, trus’ me.”

“We haven’t even been together two months,” Barry said, not believing it.

Mick snorted, a little vindictive, “Yeah.  You stuck around that icicle the longest, so congratulations, Flash.”

Barry dropped back to the sleeping bag, he hadn’t noticed he’d sat up so much.  He lifted the bottle of water to his lips but didn’t drink.  “No one?” Barry said suddenly, looking sharply at Mick.  “Longer than two months?”

“No one longer than a coupla weeks,” Mick grumbled, half under his breath, and he turned onto his side, his injured shoulder up in the air.

“What kind of men-” Barry tried.

“G’night, Flash,” Mick said, dismissing him with a yawn.

Barry tried to close his eyes and relax.  He kept looking up every few minutes to check on his father, remind himself that Henry Allen was sleeping over by his feet, and to look around the tent as if he expected Len to have snuck in there somehow without his knowledge.  Eventually, Mick Rory fell asleep and his snores forced Barry to sit down, pull the sleeping bag over his head, and try his hardest to fall back asleep.

He’d find Len in the morning. Wherever he’d gone.  At least, Barry thought, grateful, they were out of that prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end of the Iron Heights chapters; Professor Pyg is the person/villain I was referring to as the surgeon but his name is never brought up
> 
> the gang is all together again! it only took... a really really really really long amount of chapters... but yep, the Flash crew and the Rogues are all in attendance


	35. Military Base - Outside of Iron Heights

Barry woke up hungry, and still tired.  His eyes hurt, red and tired, but when he was awake he knew he just was awake.  The feeling would pass soon, the advantage of his powers.  

Barry sat up, blinking at looking at the open door of the tent. He looked to his right, the sleeping bag was still on the floor but Mick Rory wasn’t there.  There was some ash on the floor beside it, and Barry figured it was from cigarette smoke.  He guess Mick was outside finishing the rest of that, considering how adamantly nonsmoking Henry was.

Barry sighed, rubbing his eyes and then his face, and sat up.  The sleeping bag crinkled around him as he moved, keeping his lower half warm and he really didn’t want to leave.  The ARMY t-shirt he was wearing didn’t keep him very warm, and though the weather was warm enough to rain and not snow it was still chilly.

 _Len probably loves it,_ Barry thought with a yawn.

He looked around the small tent, noting the first aid kits and chest piled up on the left and the empty space, with the lamp and stool, where his father had been last night. Barry was the only one there.  He needed to find his father, and Len, and all of the others so Barry forced himself to slide his legs out of the warm sleeping back.  

He was wearing sweatpants with the National Guard logo on them.  “Where is my suit?” Barry wondered, mumbling to himself.

“Oh!” His father’s voice, from outside the tent.

Henry Allen came through the opening, along with a light morning that made Barry shiver, and was holding two bottles of packaged grape juice and had a bag full of what appeared to be granola bars.  “Barry,” Henry said, looking at Barry with a bright smile and a face akin to wonder.

Barry grinned, “Good morning, Dad,” he said, almost stuttering over the words in his eagerness to say them.

“Eat breakfast with me?” Henry asked.  He picked the lamp up, setting it on the floor, and sat down on the stool.  Henry held the bag of granola bars out to Barry after taking one for himself.

Barry shrugged, and sat down crosslegged in front of his father. He took the bag, and then opened and consumed two of the granola bars in the span of a few seconds before stopping and returning to a normal human speed.  He reached his hand out for one of the bottles of grape juice, and Henry gave it to him.

“Hey, Dad,” Barry said, excited, and took a drink.

“What?” Henry asked.  He leaned forward on the stool.

“Nothing,” Barry told him, chuckling at himself, “I just… I just wanted to say that.”

Henry’s eyes saddened, but his smile grew larger.  “Hey, slugger.”

Barry grinned again, laughed to himself, and he and his father sat and ate for a few moments, chewing. Before the accident, Barry would have been able to spend at least a half hour in silence, just enjoying the moment, but hardly thirty seconds passed before the silence felt like it had lasted too long.  “How’d you end up with Eiling?” Barry asked, feeling like he knew some of the answer but not enough.

Henry sighed, while thinking, and rubbed his temples.  “From what I understand,” he explained, “Eiling was coming from a military base near the east trying to figure out the source of the Hal Jordan radio broadcasts.  It sounds… weird to say that when I know Hal now, but anyways.  Eiling had Grodd with him, the two had come to some sort of understanding that ended up falling out.  Grodd ran into the nearest location with defensible walls and lots of hiding space.”

“Iron Heights,” Barry concluded.  Henry nodded.

“The prisoners, the ones who didn’t run out when the guards left, were all sort of… forming into gangs.  It started out nonviolent, but then one man goes alpha dog…” Henry gave a long roll of his eyes at the memory.  “Very immature.  I would have left but no one was willing to come back to Central City with me.  Eventually, Eiling showed up and recruited the prisoners with the skills he wanted and kicked the others to the curb.  He kept organizing hunting searches into the prison, and had patrols going around to make sure the people living in the country were safe.”

Barry finished the bag of granola bars while his father was talking, and didn’t miss the amused glance Henry gave to the empty wrappers.  

“Eventually Eiling figured out he could tax the people in the country. He has them working farms right now, but it’s all for survival.  If they weren’t making food, and the military wasn’t protecting them, I’m sure most of the people here would be dead.”  Henry shrugged, took a drink, and looked at Barry with a soft expression.  “I’m the doctor here.  There’s a veterinarian too, and a former med student. We’ve been taking care of the whole base.  Now at least there’s another doctor around, with your Miss Snow?”

“Mrs.,” Barry corrected.  “And I think… I think she kept her name?” Barry thought, but couldn’t remember ever being told whether Caitlin was a ‘Mrs. Snow’ or a ‘Mrs. Raymond’ or even ‘Mrs. Raymond-Snow’. “Have you heard anything about Ronnie Raymond?” He asked, nervous, “Or a Firestorm?”

“The man working with Hal?” Henry connected. “Only that they seem to have lost contact with him sometime before coming here to the base.  Why?”

“He’s Caitlin’s husband,” Barry explained, “and well, also Professor Stein.  It’s two people,” Barry smushed his palms together to demonstrate, “melded into one, fire superhero.”

Henry contemplated that with a disgusted expression.  “I’m not sure I want the details on that,” he told Barry.

“I don’t know how it works, honestly,” Barry said with a shrug.

Henry cracked his back, gave a low groan.  He looked at Barry, obviously thinking hard, and then said, “Speaking of two people…”

“Weird transition.”

“I’m just…” Henry sighed, “I want to know that if I ever gave you the impression that I wouldn’t be _open_ to you, and your sexuality, I’m sorry.”

Barry swallowed hard.  “Dad,” he said, but didn’t know how to finish that and left the word hanging.

“I love you, Barry,” Henry said, seriously, “and I want you to be happy. All I want is for you is to be a part of a family, to experience what you lost again.  It doesn’t matter to me if-”

 _“Dad,”_ Barry said again.  That was such a… nice word to say.

“When…” Henry started to say, reconsidered, and said instead, “Leonard Snart?”

Barry felt his heartbeat speed up. “The apocalypse, you know…” He said with apology, “what they say? About strange bedfellows?”

Henry thought about that for a moment.  “Are you serious about him?”

“Yes,” Barry said without hesitation.

“Is he the one?” Henry asked.  He moved forward a bit on the stool, reaching out to set his hand on Barry’s shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Barry said honestly.

“Why don’t you know?” Henry asked.

“I thought Iris was the one for most of my life,” Barry said, frowning at the bottle of grape juice in his hand so he didn’t have to look his father in the eye.  “I guess I’ve wised up to the fact that ‘destiny’ and ‘fate’ might be… harder to calculate.”

“’Nothing wrong with believing in fate,” Henry said, kindness in his eyes.

“I guess, being a time traveler, it’s easy to see how quickly things can change.  One moment, life is mapped out and the next moment it changes,” Barry said.

“In a flash,” Henry added, a wistful smile on his face.  His hand tightened on Barry’s shoulder.

“Where’s Joe?” Barry asked, suddenly filled with anxiety as he realized he had yet to see his foster father.

“Outside, he’s fine,” Henry promised.  “I asked for some along time with you, but whenever you’re ready we can join the others.  They’re eating breakfast with the mess, but it’s an oatmeal slosh and peanut powder combination.” Henry smiled.  “I thought I could spare you from choking that down for another day.”

Henry was talking like he expected Barry and the others to stay with the military from now on.  And maybe that would be the right plan.  Obviously, Bivolo was still back at their houses, along with their personal items (and all Barry’s shoes, mementos, and the blue curtain), but if they had a military jeep or two to transfer supplies to?  If they could sleep at night while letting other people take watch, and go out during the day to help people with the military and with Hal Jordan?  It wasn’t a bad idea.

Barry was silent as he thought about it.  He found himself… picturing Len in a uniform.  

That image didn’t go straight to his lower half, however, and then Barry was imagining the rest of the Rogues in similar gear.  It was hard to imagine Len following someone else’s orders, much less any of the Rogues abiding by government rules.  

If staying here _was_ the best option, then Barry would have to convince the Rogues.  If they had to leave, then they’d have to find a way to escape and take Henry and Joe with them.

Speaking of which… Barry glanced at the door flap of the tent.  He couldn’t smell anything similar to smoke outside, though the ashes beside Mick’s sleeping bag were obviously from a cigarette.  It had to have been a long time since Mick had left, but it was early morning.  

The ground outside the tent, grass that Barry could see from the slight opening in the side, was still wet with morning dew and the world had that… grainy, just post sunrise quality.  

“How long as Mick been gone?” Barry asked.

“Don’t worry about him,” Henry said, taking his hand off of Barry’s shoulder. “I’m sure things will get worked out.”

Barry’s forehead furrowed with thought.  “What’s wrong?” He asked, voice low as he stared at the tent’s exit.

“No one is being hurt,” Henry assured him.

“Something is going on,” Barry concluded.  He turned to look at his father; Henry seemed nervous, apologetic, watching Barry’s face with sympathy.

“You need to stay in here until General Eiling comes by,” Henry said.  The man didn’t seem comfortable saying those words.  Henry took a sharp breath, reaching his hands up to rub his temples in a familiar gesture, one Barry was used to seeing in a mirror.  “He wants you and I to stay with him.  You’ll be able to come to an arrangement.”

“Where’s Len?” Barry asked.  He stood up.

“Barry,” Henry said, and the man reached out, grabbing Barry’s shirt, the one with the ARMY logo. “Nothing is happening to them.  Eiling is just holding them in another location until we can work this out.”

“Prisoners?” Barry asked.

Henry nodded.  

“Everyone?” Barry wondered, eyes widening at the pity in his father’s eyes.  “Iris?”

“No,” Henry told him, “just the… the ones you’ve been traveling with who… well…”

“The ones with records and meta powers?” Barry guessed.   _Which would be all of the Rogues._

“No one is being hurt,” Henry promised, “Eiling even let me treat Mick Rory’s wound before he took the man to the others.”

“What about Len’s?” Barry realized, a sudden start of nervousness in his chest.

Henry frowned.  “He wasn’t injured in the attack-”

“His _hand,”_ Barry clarified.  He ran his hands up and down his arms, not realizing he was generating friction.  “We spent days in the prison.  Len needs his wrist rebandaged and treated-”

“I can do that today,” Henry promised.

Barry shook his head. He couldn’t help remembering… god Len.  Len had the worst luck.  Len, who’d nearly been tossed into a meat grinder at the homestead, who’d been beat down and locked up at the cult, bit by a zombie, had too many close calls to count- Barry didn’t like being apart from Len.  He really didn’t like it. This was a bad feeling- Barry felt…

He felt like he was on the very edge of helplessness.  In any moment, he would be trapped, stuck watching his loved ones hurt and not being able to stop it.  His mother dying. His father imprisoned.  Len, standing, holding a bleeding hand with a frozen zombie at his feet- or Len, at the mercy of these people and-

“Grodd is secure, Dr. Snow is with him,” Henry was saying, “Eiling had some cage to keep him and managed to transport it in a covered truck-”

“Where are they keeping Len?” Barry interrupted.

Henry stopped, hesitating.  But the man saw something in Barry’s face and he nodded.  “Leave the tent,” Henry said, “go left and go straight. There’s a chainlink fence around this camp and right beyond that will be two guarded trucks.  That’s where they keep prisoners and the infected.”

“Thanks,” Barry said.  He wasn’t wearing shoes but… it wasn’t like the friction would do anything to hurt his feet, and he would heal quickly from any rocks or anything else that might bother him.  

“I can get my kit out,” Henry said, serious, “if you want to bring your partner back for me to treat.”

“Okay,” Barry said, and then he was gone.

Eiling was close, Barry saw him as he was running.  The wizened general was flanked by four well armed and armored soldiers, and was only a few yards from the tent, obviously on his way to see Barry.

Outside, it was just barely daylight.  Barry was in a row of tents that extended far, all entirely identical except Henry’s tent was doubled in size with a red cross insignia on the front.  Barry was a blur, his body too quick a motion for even Eiling’s eyes to catch, and Barry skirted past the man, lightning crackling through his swifter motions, sickening pit in his chest.  And Barry was gone, running past the man, heading toward where Henry had said-

And then Barry changed his mind.  He ran back, and Eiling had just barely turned, the man’s hand twitching upward as if to point, but nearly frozen in time.  

Barry grabbed the man by his vest.  The initial yank was difficult, pulling the man along with him, but then velocity took hold and carrying the man was just a matter of holding Eiling securely.

There was nothing Eiling could do about it, and Barry glared ahead at the thought.  He was the _Flash._  Barry wasn’t just any ordinary twenty-five year old, he wasn’t a person who a man like Eiling could bargain with-

Eiling wanted to hold Barry’s loved ones captive?  Keep Henry locked away against his will, just like a prison warden?  And take the Rogues out with the ‘infected’, Barry’s friends, and his… partner.  Barry steeled his eyes as he ran, jumping past obstacles in the road, running beyond a makeshift set of picnic tables where he could see them.

Cisco, arms crossed and frowning, Caitlin rubbing the front of her shirt with worry, Iris eating with tears in her eyes, Eddie’s arms around her and Joe- _Joe,_ sitting across from them.  

Barry stumbled, wanting to join them, but didn’t.  He kept his arm on Eiling.

Getting past the fence wasn’t something Barry even thought about.  One moment, the fence, a sturdy, crossed metal contraption about ten foot high that looked like it was easy to take down and put back up, one moment it was there in front of him.  Then Barry _shook,_ an instinct, his body vibrating from his toes to every inch and molecule of his hair, and then the fence was _behind_ him.

 _Phasing,_ Barry recalled. One of the many things Harrison Wells… or Eobard, had taught him.

The two vehicles were there as his father had said.  Barry dropped Eiling on the ground and raced inside them.

Len was there, Barry saw him and instantly focused on him. There were two guards in the front and back and Barry didn’t even spare a thought for them.  He was too fast to be caught.

Len and the others were handcuffed to the ceiling of the truck, underneath the fabric cover was a metal contraption, but the others were handcuffed with both hands, Len wasn’t. Barry could not wait to check on everyone, he had to get to Len.

The handcuff was easy to take off.  Barry smashed it into his hands, vibrated, felt the sting of burning metal on unprotected fingers, but the chain disappeared like vapor.

He grabbed Len, more carefully than Eiling.

Barry was out the door.  Picked up Eiling like a bag of trash, and then he ran.  And ran. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but eventually there was a long, empty stretch of dirt road, with a clearing around him, and Barry stopped.

Eiling fell to the ground, with a surprised shout, landing face first into dirt. Barry held Len up, Len’s feet finding purchase on the ground by instinct.  Len gripped Barry’s shirt tight.

 _“What-”_ Len shouted, holding onto Barry tight, and then he blinked, stepped back, and his eyes focused.

Len looked tired, unshaven, but alert and still himself.  “Barry,” he said, visible relief dropping from his shoulders.

Barry wrapped his arms around Len, holding him tightly.  His face pressed against Len’s shoulder and he took a deep breath, not caring that they hadn’t seen a shower in awhile it was just… nice to feel Len, strong and present around him, in any sense. Len’s hand held the back of Barry’s head, and his other arm held Barry as close as he could.  

“Oh, Barry,” Len mumbled into Barry’s ear.  “I-”

“Touching, rather unexpected,” said the unwelcome voice of General Eiling, “though I doubt I was brought along to watch this reunion?”

“Why didn’t Mark or Shawna-” Barry started to say, ignoring Eiling for a moment to talk to Len.

“We didn’t know where you were, or Mick, until a few hours ago,” Len said. He stepped away from Barry, eyes focused on Eiling like a predator watching prey.  Even without a gun, and with only one hand, Len gave off a confidently dangerous vibe.  

 _Polar bear,_ Barry thought, the conclusion of a half second tangent in his brain where he wondered what animal Len would be.  He was confident in his conclusion, but then again there were _so_ many more important things to be focusing on.

General Wade Eiling stood up slowly. He patted down the dirt from the front of his shirt, and underneath his chin.  The harsh landing Barry had given him had covered him in dirt.  Eiling wiped at the mess of brown smudges on his impeccably shaved chin.  “If you want your friends released,” Eiling started to say.

“We can release ourselves,” Barry snapped, lightning sparking under his eyelids.  He stepped forward toward the general, unafraid.  “There are three metahumans with us.  Even without powers, we could take out your entire set up.”

Len was grinning. “The error you made at the beginning was assuming our group wasn’t at all interconnected,” he said.

General Eiling rolled his eyes at the theatrics.  “My mistake was not recruiting that other speedster,” he corrected, “though it’s not like I was given a chance.”

“What?” Barry said, eyes widening.

General Eiling gave Barry a look of pure distain.  “I suppose if I took my gun out now I’d be disarmed before I can blink, so I won’t bother.  For the sake of pure honesty, let me inform you that I, in no sense, wanted you or any of your criminal friends in my camp.”

Len snorted.  “Is that why you locked Henry Allen up here?”

Eiling cracked his knuckles, surprisingly nonchalant despite being dragged several miles by a speedster.  “Henry Allen will be a loss,” he said, sourly, not seeming to care, “Grodd will not be a loss.  Please take both with you.”

Barry blinked in surprise. “Grodd?  Wait…” Nothing about Eiling’s demeanor indicated the man was capable of a joke.  “Are you,” Barry asked, “and Joe West?”

“Who?” Eiling gave Barry an annoyed glare.  “Fine. Get them and your Green Lanterned friend out of my fucking hair,” he said, “I know you are planning to incite all those creatures.  Probably plan to fight them head on, and I don’t want a part of it.”

“We’ll take Central City,” Len said immediately.

“What?!” Barry said, staring between the two of them.  “Wait… what?  After all the trouble you went to so you could have Grodd-”

“I don’t want a zombie gorilla,” Eiling said with distain, “if Hal Jordan does, that’s his business but I don’t want that anywhere near my people.”

“I’m not so crazy about it either,” Len said, and Barry stared at him.

“Grodd is our link to the Black Hand,” Barry said.

“I’m aware,” Len dismissed, “you and I talk later. In the meantime,” Len frowned at Eiling, “you want me to believe that you’ll let all of us go without any fuss?”  Len narrowed his eyes.  “You want something.”

“I want you to take Hal Jordan out of here,” Eiling growled, “half my soldiers are ready to fight a zombie horde head on instead of protecting the civilians who need us.”

“Your farmers,” Barry recalled.

“They’re alive, aren’t they?” Eiling asked, looking at him with a thousand yard stare.  “We’ve seem shit out here. My soldiers need to go _home,_ Mr. Allen, and I am going to give that to all of us. If your people in Central want to trade liquor and clothing for fresh vegetables in a month or two, that’s what I call a mutually beneficial agreement.”

“Yet, you think we’re going to be fighting a zombie horde,” Len said, casually, “you seem optimistic about our chances of survival.”

“We’re going to survive,” Barry insisted.

“So is he,” General Eiling pointed out.

“Why are you?” Len repeated.

“Preparing and making stock in all future outcomes is something I was trained for at West Point,” Eiling said with confidence, “I understand you chances.  I have prepared for what happens if you fail, which is that a zombie horde appears in Central City and likely travels down the highway again, and nothing changes.” He looked at Len, but said to Barry, “I’m surprised by your current choice of companionship.”

Len glared at him.  “It’s not your business to have an opinion.”

Eiling shrugged, agreeing with that statement.  “I’m leaving it up to Mr. Allen to convince Hal Jordan and his female friend to leave with their prized, undead ape,” he said, the words sounding like an order.

“Gorilla,” Barry corrected under his breath.

“If you head out in two days, we won’t have an issue,” Eisling decided.  “Just keep your freaks and undead baiting away from my people.”

Barry and Len shared a glance.  “Fine,” Barry said.

“We need one of your vehicles,” Len said.

 _“One,”_ Eisling allowed him.

* * *

Everyone was walking pretty much behind Barry as they came into the picnic area.  It was set up like a cafeteria, but breakfast had already been served.  Few people were there, a man in a uniform and a daughter of about ten years old were sitting on one table, each with a book, but, spread out over two tables, was the rest of Barry’s friends and family.

Henry was there, sitting next to Joe, Eddie, and Iris at their table.  He stood up when he saw Barry getting closer.

Cisco, stumbling, locked eyes with Lisa and attempted to get out of the picnic table. He didn’t quite manage, fell down and had to steady himself, and then once he was standing at his feet he stared, looking petrified, as Lisa stopped by the edge of the table and didn’t say anything to him.

Hartley grabbed James’ sleeve, moved him past the others so the two could talk, actually it looked more like arguing, in private, and that was the last thing Barry noticed his friends doing before he was swooped up in a hug by a familiar pair of arms.

“Barry,” Joe said, bright and relieved.  He squeezed Barry tight once, and let go of the bear hug, giving Barry a bright smile.

Iris, looking at Barry from behind her father, had a nervous look on her face and she grimaced and made a gesture Barry didn’t understand.  Warning him.

“Anyone see where those bastards took my smokes?” Mick, gruff, said from behind Barry’s ear.

Joe looked away, glaring at the people behind Barry and Barry swallowed.  This conversation would not be easy.

“So where do you shower?” Len asked loudly.

* * *

While it was true the entire group needed a bath, sans Joe and Henry, Barry couldn’t think of a more awkward position for him to be in.  

The showers were just a drainage pipe, with holes through the side and a lever function at each, set up with a cardboard wall running between the two sides.  Henry showed it to them, made some mention of ‘washing the soap before you use it’ and ‘your feet will be muddy, you have to ignore it’.

Shawna breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it, ignoring Mark’s grumbles that ‘he could make her a goddamn outdoor shower anytime she wanted’ and eagerly walked with Lisa to the women’s side.  Caitlin waited for Iris to say goodbye to Eddie, and then those two left together.  

Iris’ and Eddie’s goodbye definitely involved lovingly staring into each other’s eyes, and kissing each other like they were going to be separated for weeks.  Which Barry could actually look at with a smile.  He was happy to see Iris as happy as she was.

He remembered, with a start, that Iris was pregnant and wondered if Eddie knew yet.  If he did, Barry thought, watching Eddie go to the guard at the shed to get a towel and bar of soap, Eddie wasn’t really acting any different.  The overly romantic, sappy in love (not like Barry could exactly throw stones) behavior Eddie had was just the same as it had always been.

The showers were set up between several of the trucks, giving enough privacy that no one could look in accidentally, and it didn’t seem like any peeping toms would be tolerated since the guard by the towels was a woman and had a gun.  But there weren’t curtains, which normally wouldn’t… really wouldn’t _matter._

Barry frowned at Hartley, but soon realized Hartley wasn’t looking in either Barry or Len’s direction at all.  Hartley was entirely focused on his argument with James.

 _I guess that is nice_ , Barry thought, watching the piper and trickster together. He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about the two, but at least James was someone for Hartley.  The undivided attention seemed to go both ways, even if James was a little purple in the face from talking and Barry was sure he’d heard James whispering, “-just because I like _you,_ Hartley, doesn’t mean I’m _into_ guys so-”

Barry could ask Hartley about whatever was going on between them later.

For now, four people could shower at once and Len was some incredible genius who had managed to convince Mick, Mark, James, and Hartley to go on ahead of them.  

Cisco was looking at Barry, from Barry to Henry and Joe. They were waiting outside of the showers, standing together.  Barry still didn’t have any shoes, though he couldn’t help but wish he did. The ground was already muddy here, and the bottom of his sweatpants were getting dirty.  At least his Flash uniform had been returned, it was the same place as everyone’s weapons.

There was a very awkward silence, while Cisco bit his nails, Len pointedly didn’t look at Barry, and Henry kept nudging Barry’s arms. They were waiting for him to tell Joe, and it was really time to.  Wasn’t it?

Barry opened his mouth, ready to get this over with so he could move on, find a way to repair the inevitable rift between him and Joe, and move on to talking with Hal Jordan and preparing for the future fight against the Black Hand.

 _Speak of the devil,_ Barry thought.

Because there Hal Jordan was, waving his hand and floating about five yards away in a green leotard, which was the most welcome distraction Barry had ever had.  “Hal Jordan?” Barry said.

“Hey, group!” Hal said, slowly falling down from the sky to hover an inch about the muddy group.  “Getting acclimated, I see.  Very nice.  Carol is over with our zombie friend making sure he’s comfortable and stays at least slightly liking us, seems to like her and Caitlin but can’t stand the sight of any of the men, very King Kong of him…” Hal said, not stopping, a cocky grin on his face, “How’s it going?”

“Nice to see you again,” Joe said, speaking before anyone else had a chance to.  “Any reason you’re over here?”

“Eiling told me I should talk to Mr. Allen.  Something about ‘getting the hell out of his camp’,” Hal said with a laugh.  

“Cool,” Cisco said, watching Hal flying with awe.  “How?”

“It’s complicated, but I can tell you over beer and cards sometimes,” Hal promised.

“I’m guessing you’re talking about me,” Barry asked, “considering there are two ‘Mr. Allens’.”

“I’m assuming,” Hal said with a shrug, “I already know ol’Doc here.”

Joe opened his mouth to say something else and Barry felt a start of anxiety and realized he wanted nothing more than to hold off on the current situation.  

“Want to take a walk with me?” Barry asked Hal.

* * *

The grass on the ground wiped off most of the mud while they walked, though Hal and Barry didn’t go far.  They skirted around the edge of the fence, staying inside the barrier, and started off right next to the military’s makeshift bath set up, a few hundred yards to the cafeteria, and then back.  

Barry talked first, letting himself ramble on, first acknowledging that the majority of the people he traveled with were criminals, then promising that all the criminals were “nice enough”, and finished by explaining they had a set up in Central City, and were willing to join the fight against the Black Hand if it meant keeping zombism from spreading to the rest of the globe.  It was a mouthful, and Barry was speaking on behalf of pretty much everyone, but he was sure that at least the majority of everyone would agree with what he was saying.

It was a mouthful, and by the time Barry finished he was stumbling over his words and his mouth felt heavy.  

The man in green contemplated that for a moment, and then said, “You can call me Hal, by the way.”

Barry nodded.  “Uhm… I’m Barry.”

While they walked, Hal reached out, his hand curled in a fist, in front of Barry.  Barry gave him a fist bump without a second thought.  

“Carol has some issues herself,” Hal admitted, “not unlike the people you travel with, but I can vouch for her.”

“So what is your plan?” Barry asked.

Hal blinked in surprise and stopped walking for a moment.  “Have Grodd tell us where the Black Hand is and attack him?”

“Is that it?” Barry said, frowning.

“I mean, strategy will also play into effect,” Hal said slowly, “but it depends on where we are.”

“Len is good at strategy,” Barry told him.

“Leonard Snart? Criminal with the cold gun?” Hal asked.

Barry nodded, rolling his eyes.  “Yeah.”

“Carol will-”

“Oliver Queen,” Barry said suddenly.

Hal scratched his nose and waited for Barry to finish the thought.

“The Arrow,” Barry continued, “I mean, if we’re putting together an army to fight the Black Hand-”

“Lantern,” Hal corrected.

“-then Arrow is pretty much the equivalent of one,” Barry said, “we already have so many metahumans.”

“Starling City?” Hal asked.

“I haven’t heard anything from him, I assume he’s still there.  It’s the only shot we have, right?” Barry asked.

Hal shrugged. “I’ll release a radio broadcast asking for him to meet us in Starling if he’s there,” Hal said.

“Will you be able to get Grodd back to Central?” Barry asked.

“He wants to come with us,” Hal said.  “He’s a zombie, but he seems okay.  So the Arrow is Oliver Queen?  Wasn’t he dead?”

Barry frowned.  “Not since… forever? He was trapped on an island and came back.  It was a really long time ago.”

“Oh,” Hal said, thinking. “I’ve been in space.”

Barry waited for Hal to clarify, but the man didn’t.  “Like what?” Barry asked, a nervous grin, “Hanging out with the Martians and the Voyager.”

“I can explain it later,” Hal told him.  “You can get back to your friends and we can meet up for dinner, when Carol is around?”

“You weren’t actually in space?”  Barry said, wondering if he should make a bigger deal out of it.  Hal dodging his questions was making him even more curious.  “Right?”

“No.  I was in space,” Hal explained. And he shrugged.  “I’m part of an intergalactic police force? I guess that’s how to describe it.”

“No,” Barry dismissed.  He looked at the honesty in Hal’s face and his eyes widened.  “For real?”

“I have to take you sometime,” Hal said with a grin.

“What?  Where?” Barry shook his head, “No, you’re not…”

“I’m not kidding,” Hal told him.  “I’ll prove it to you later, Carol wants me to relieve her of gorilla duty soon.  We’ll talk,” Hal started to float, farther away, and Barry had to admit that if people could fly, and create objects out of green and purple light, then maybe the person he was talking to could be an astronaut, “about the Arrow.”

Barry nodded, but then, thinking for a moment, blinked.  He said to himself, “Does ‘intergalactic’ mean there are aliens?”  Looking up, Barry saw Hal wave at him and laugh.  “Does ‘intergalactic’ mean aliens?”  Barry asked, suddenly confronted with the relentless amount of paperwork and research he had done in the same subject.

 _Oh man,_ if aliens were real, Iris owed him fifty dollars.

Except… money wasn’t worth anything anymore because of the whole “fall of society” and “apocalypse” thing.  Well, Barry would still have bragging rights.


	36. Military Base - Day 2

“You haven’t told him,” Len said, staring at Barry’s face in annoyance.

Barry’s heart rate jumped.  He stepped back but his back was to the fence, and then couldn’t think of where to look so his eyes went to the sky.  It had just finished raining, and was still chilly outside. Though it was only late evening, the clouds made it seem later than it was.

Mark was off somewhere being miserable and Shawna and Hartley, with Hartley’s new tag-a-long James, were trying to cheer him up.  Henry was giving advice to the veterinarian. Joe was off with Eddie and Iris, and Barry wasn’t sure what everyone else was doing, only they were gone and it was just him and Len.

It had been an entire day since Barry’d woken up in the base.  They were heading back to Central the next morning, and Barry was more than excited to imagine going to sleep in the _house,_ with the actual mattress and not a sleeping bag on the floor.

Putting up the curtain.  Falling asleep with _Len-_ it had been nearly impossible falling asleep last night without him. Even knowing Henry was sleeping in the tent with Barry, he’d felt lonely and… cold.  He’d spent a long time convincing himself that it was fine, that he could sleep, but that was the first night he’d actually willingly spent apart from Len and it didn’t feel right.  

And then talks with Joe, and Hal, and Hal and Carol, and Hal and Carol and Joe and Grodd, and convincing Eisling they’d leave in the morning, and talking with Joe again, and trying to tell him- Barry honestly tried to tell Joe, but every time he was close the words just fell away from him.

Len frowned, and put his arms up to the sides of Barry’s shoulders. Len stepped forward, arms and body effectively trapping Barry up against the chain-link fence border of the compound.  It was as if Len was worried Barry was going to run off again.

And that was... a fair assumption.

Avoiding talking to Joe basically meant avoiding Len. Not dealing with the situation had seemed like the best response, until Len grabbed Barry by the arm after dinner and dragged him over to the wall.

“Why not?” Len demanded.

“Why not what?”

“You haven’t told him,” Len said, eyes narrowing as he looked at Barry’s face as if reading the micro expressions.  

“I’m going to.”

“You’re making everyone uncomfortable, _Flash,”_ Len said stiffly.  He stepped closer, and then his boots were between Barry’s bare feet, and knee right up between Barry’s legs, so the position was intimate but Len’s expression anything but friendly.  

“Uh…” Barry swallowed, nervous, blood swelling around his groin that was hard to ignore with Len’s face to close to his, and… god, just anxious.

It was probably true. Everyone knew but Joe. They were all waiting for Barry to tell the detective and yet an entire two days had gone by- Barry was so, so, _so_ glad he hadn’t seen Lisa yet.  He wasn’t sure what fury was awaiting him there, but he was sure Lisa wasn’t going to be happy.

“Tell him.” Len’s lip curled up into some sort of amused snarl, if that was possible.  

“I’m waiting for the right time,” Barry insisted, though the words sounded weak and cliché.

“There is no ‘right time’,” Len said, “there will _never_ be. So just get it the fuck _over_ with.”

Wow.  Len’s lips were close.

“Barry, I don’t want to go another night not sleeping with you,” Len put his hand on Barry’s shoulder, and his expression was softer as he spoke, almost pleading, “I _can’t_ sleep without you.  I’m used to you.  And going a whole day knowing you’re right next to me and I can’t _touch_ you-”

Barry leaned forward, to stop Len’s words with a kiss but then Len’s hand was suddenly on his mouth, pushing Barry’s head back against the fence.

Len glared at him.  “No.”

_Did he just…_ Barry shook Len’s hand off his face.   _“What?”_ He said, louder than he intended.  Quick, he looked over toward the nearest tent but there was no reaction.  Barry said, confused, “Why did you just _do_ that?”  

“I don’t want to kiss you,” Len said, frowning.

Barry’s eyes widened at those words.  He had no idea what to say.

Len thought for a moment, then shook his head, forehead furrowed in thought.  “Not that…” Len sighed.   _“Shit._  Barry,” he said, trying again, “obviously I… I _want_ to kiss you but I _ca_ _n’t.”_

“You can’t kiss me,” Barry repeated in disbelief.

“Yes,” Len said.

“Are you-” Barry started, stopped when the words came out too angrily, but then just went with it and said in a hiss, “Are you _real_ right now? What the _hell,_ Len?”

“Do you have any idea how old I am? I am not going to _sneak_ around like a god damned teenager, _Barry_ Allen,” Len said, voice stiff.  He shifted his weight, but still was pressed up against Barry, face inches from the speedster, bodies brushing against each other with every slight movement.

“‘Barry Allen’,” Barry repeated the use of his full name mockingly.

“I am _not_ going to be some secret fucking romance,” Len demanded, “you said that you love me.  So you’ll tell Joe now.”

“Oh, really?” Barry glared. “I’m _going to_ just like that?  You’re just going to order me around now?”  He felt… Barry didn’t feel angry, though his words and expressions all carried anger outwardly. He was anxious, nervous, worried, confused… all manner of emotions besides anger.

“You need to do this,” Len insisted.

“Because you ‘said so’?” Barry asked, words coming out with more venom than he meant.

“Because if you don’t, I will,” Len told him.

Barry searched Len’s face, hoping the man was joking. But Len obviously wasn’t.  “No…?” Barry tried.

“I do not lie about who I am,” Len said, cautious, “I can’t.”

Barry felt a pang of guilt.  He swallowed, hard, voice softer as he said, “I just need time.”

“You don’t have it,” Len said curtly.

Barry sighed, reached up awkwardly around Len’s arm so he could rub his temples.  And then suddenly he felt contained, restricted, help up and suffocated and Len was just… too close.  “Get off,” Barry mumbled, “let me go.”

Len understood what Barry was saying immediately and stepped away from him. Suddenly, the warmth of Len’s body was gone, and the other man was standing, only a foot away, the distance nothing to Barry and yet so important. Barry’s didn’t want to want this.  To want to rush into Len’s arms.  To agree.

Barry looked away, ran his hand over his shoulder and bicep and stared at a nonexistent point to his right.  He couldn’t think of… “There really isn’t any way to hold this off,” Barry said, wanting it to be a statement but it came out as a question.

“No,” Len answered.  To the point.

“He’s not going to like it,” Barry muttered under his breath.

Len reached out, Barry could see it from his peripheral vision, and Len’s cold hand brushed on Barry’s cheek.  Barry didn’t flinch or shiver, but didn’t lean into the touch either. Len’s thumb circled around Barry’s cheek, his fingers finding space against Barry’s neck. Barry ignored it.

Barry blinked at the nothingness he was currently staring at, feeling sick to his stomach, nervous, and finally, felt a hint of anger.  “I don’t want to make things worse for him,” Barry said, the words soft.

For the first time, Barry noticed the sound of crickets.  There it was, the distant, incessantly musical chirping of bugs in the distance.  It really _was_ becoming spring.  The warmer weather had sprung up fast after Mark’s prolonged and forced subzero winter.

Somehow, Barry’d assumed it would be winter always.  Or the zombies would be gone when the weather warmed up and he was back home in Central City.  But things were different.

And ‘different’ meant Barry had to stop avoiding the truth.  Running away from revelations and dreaded conversations, holding it off with silence rather than Barry’s poor attempt at lying.  Withholding the truth was something Barry’d turned into an art form long ago.

“It’s already bad,” Barry explained, when Len didn’t say anything to him.  Len’s thumb stalled on his face, but the hand was still there, a gentle contact that Barry knew would be gone in an instant if he brushed Len’s hand away.  “The zombies.  Iris being pregnant.  Iris with Eddie.  Central City is destroyed.  So many people are dead.  Joe having to get used to just being around you and the Rogues.  It’s a lot for him to deal with and if we can just let him get used to the idea of Iris being pregnant and surviving with a group of criminals _first-”_

Len interrupted.  “I don’t give a fuck about Joe West’s feelings,” he said, harsh and honest.

Barry’s eyes jumped to Len in surprise.  “I _do.”_

“Stop caring,” Len said like an order.

Barry frowned.  “He’s my _foster father._  He raised me since I was eleven.  Joe took me in when my mother died and my father went to prison, he’s family to me-”

“You don’t owe him shit.  He did that of his own free will,” Len said, an edge to his voice.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Barry insisted.

“So you’d rather never spend another second together just to keep your _foster_ father in the dark?” Len asked, eyes flashing with anger.

Barry stared.  “N… _No!_ No, not at all, I don’t- Len, that’s not what I-”

“I am sick of not sleeping beside you, waking up without you next to me,” Len said, his tone harsh and biting though the words weren’t. Len’s hand dropped to Barry’s shoulder, and Len was frowning, his scowl conflicted, his muscles were tense and eyes pleading, too many emotions and thoughts.  Len looked… stuck.

Len was a mix of vulnerability and defensiveness, there was something about him closed off and yet fighting to be expressed.  It was painful to watch.  

Barry stepped forward, hands reaching out to hold the fabric of Len’s blue jacket between his fingers.

Len closed his eyes, expression softening when Barry came closer. He took a deep breath, and then the other man said, with a confidence so contradictory to the rest of his expression, “This cannot come to a moment where you have to choose between your foster father or me.  I can't put you in that situation.”

Barry swallowed hardly at that.  “I don’t want you to feel that way,” he said, “it _isn’t_ that way.  I just wanted to wait, Len.  I get it.”  Barry sighed.  He did understand. “I know. I can’t hold it off.  I’m just…”  He let that sentence trail off without completion.

“I am not afraid of Detective West,” Len said simply.

Barry wanted to bang his head against a wall.  “I’m not either.”

“You _are,”_ Len dismissed, “because you care about what he thinks; however, I don’t give a shit but I need you to tell him.”

“I’ll tell him,” Barry promised.

“Now.”  Len reached up, brushed something off Barry’s forehead, and that movement seemed to help Len regain his composure.  

Barry’s stomach dropped with dread, but he knew it was coming before it happened.  Len was right, of course, there was too much to do and they couldn’t spare any time keeping secrets from Joe West, especially considering how everyone else knew the truth.  Barry should have learned his lesson from hiding the truth about the Flash from Iris but…well, at least Len was pushing him to be honest.

And it was true.  Spending time apart from each other… well, for Barry at least, it seemed to drain the optimism from the air.  When Len wasn’t around, Barry could see the weariness on the faces of others too clearly, marks of exhaustion threatening to drag Barry down with it.  Fighting the Black Lantern turned from a righteous, gallant quest into a hopeless mission, and all the steps toward it, from negotiating with the undead Grodd, meeting up with Hal Jordan and Carol Ferris, radioing messages for a future venture into Starling, it all became daunting tasks that built up in his mind until running felt like wading through the fog of purgatory.

Len was more than a distraction. He was strong, intelligent, and meticulous in his planning. Len wouldn’t back their plan if Len didn’t think it was possible to survive, and he was there every step of the way, helping Barry figure out what he needed to do and how in order to… to do anything. To make it to Central, to escape enemies along the way, and even to rescue Henry Allen.

Barry felt overwhelmed.  He sighed, then let go of the fabric of Len’s jacket to wrap his arms around Len’s chest. Barry’s forehead pressed tight onto Len’s collarbone and he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.  

Len smelled like the military soap, like metal, and the sick tang of antiseptic and blood.

“Please,” Len asked.

“Okay. Tonight,” Barry said, nodding against Len’s chest. “Now.”

* * *

Barry opened the door of his father’s tent, the Red Cross sign and larger size the only way Barry could differentiate between it and the plenty of others in Eiling’s base.  

Joe West nodded, giving Barry a kind smile and then he ducked his head down just a bit to walk into the tent.  His clothes looked new, he was wearing an ARMY shirt identical to the one Barry had and a pair of jeans held up with a cord, not a belt.  Joe’s boots were well worn though, and the detective stomped them on the ground outside the tent before entering.  “What is so important we need to talk in private?” Joe asked, curious. “If this is about working with those criminals… Henry, sorry to interrupt.”

Barry stepped into the tent behind Joe.  Henry was there, sitting on the stool with Len’s arm on his lap, bandages covered in dried, dark blood on the floor.  He was wrapping up Len’s wrist as Barry entered.  

Len was sitting on the only other stool, leaning back with his other hand on his knee.  He looked annoyingly smug, and winked at Barry when Barry walked in.

Barry glared.

Len shrugged, and turned to Henry.  “Thanks, it’s starting to feel better lately,” he said, gesturing to his stump arm, “the sharp pain mostly just a throb.”

“You have painkillers?  Ibuprofen?”  Henry asked.

“Barry,” Joe asked, “you want to talk outside?”

Barry swallowed. “Here’s fine,” he said.  Henry hadn’t actually been there when Barry’d asked Len to wait in the tent, but it had taken Barry awhile to find Henry.  He’d been with the other Rogues, surprisingly, but had apparently gone there to talk with Iris, who’d spent the day with Shawna.

Henry was just as much a part of the conversation, and Barry hadn’t actually been able to introduce Len to Henry.  

He wished he knew what Len and Henry could have been talking about. Henry looked normal, and so did Len if ‘scarily confident, carrying-a-gun-and-ready-to-use-it, mobster’ counted as one of Len’s many default expressions.

His arm wrapped up and bandaged, Len leaned back on the stool, tilted his head, and watched Joe carefully.

“I grabbed some stools from the tents nearby,” Henry Allen said, pointing behind Barry.

Barry hadn’t actually seen them, but when he did, he grabbed both the stools and set them down for him and Henry, right across from Henry and Len.  Barry’s heart was pounding. His leg jumped up and down when he sat and Barry had to force himself to stay still.  

Joe sat down. “Why do I get the idea that everyone knows why we’re here except for me?”

“Very perceptive of you,” Len said with a smirk.

Did Len really have to act all ‘Captain Cold’ _now,_ of all times?

Joe glared at Len’ mouth pulled tight into a frown.  Joe’s hands tightened on his jeans as he spoke. “Are you _supposed_ to be here?” He asked Len.

“Yes,” Len replied.

“I think-” Barry started to say.

Joe interrupted.  “It’s good you are here,” Joe said, voice carrying anger, “Snart.  I was wondering exactly why we should be bringing you or any of your friends along.  Or that sister of yours.”

_“Lisa,”_ Len said, eyes narrowing.

“Wait,” Henry raised his hands in a gesture of peace.  “Let’s not get carried away here.  Barry has something he needs to talk to us about, so let’s give him the floor for right now.”

“How long have you been traveling with Barry?” Joe asked Len.

“Since the beginning,” Len said.  Len leaned forward on his chair, eyes focused and narrowed with tension as he spoke to Joe.  “And look.  I return him to you intact and alive.”

“Should I be thanking you for that?”

“It’s better than what you did,” Len said calmly.

Barry cleared his throat.

“Excuse me?” Joe snapped.

“Leaving him to run through the blizzard alone?” Len said.

“Barry has a responsibility, as the Flash, and he-”

Len jumped in, finishing Joe’s sentence, “-can make his own decisions?”

Joe bristled at the interruption.  “Excuse me?” He asked, angrily.  Joe looked like he was about to stand up, though if he did the tent would force him to bend over, so Joe stayed sitting.  “You have a lot of fucking nerve to be critiquing my parenting, Snart,” Joe growled, “what’s your point?”

Len shrugged, and leaned back, hand on his knee and stump arm resting on his lap.  “Ask Barry,” he said, calmly.

Barry glared at Len. Because now Joe was riled up and looking like he wanted to shoot someone and did Len have no sense of self preservation? This was not going the way Barry had sincerely hoped that it would… easily.  Preferably with Joe already knowing.  

Everyone was looking at Barry.  Including Henry.

Barry sighed, rubbed his temples, and steeled his nerves.  “The Rogues are fine to travel with us,” Barry said first.  He’d had a speech prepared and forgotten it.  “We’re all working together to try to survive and after everything we’ve been through,” Barry took a deep breath, “we’ve realized there’s a lot of safety in numbers.”

“Are you a ‘Rogue’, Barry,” Joe asked, frowning, “or the Flash?”

“Joe,” Henry said, “just let Barry explain.”

Joe’s eyes widened.  “Am I honestly the only one here who doesn’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes,” Len said unapologetically.

“You know what you should-” Joe started to say.

Henry interrupted.  “Barry, it really is time to finish what you were saying.”

Barry dropped his head to his hands, the weight of dread in his stomach not easing up at all.  “Joe,” he said slowly.

“Alright, now I’m nervous,” Joe said, not letting Barry continue.  “Did something awful happen?”

_“No,”_ Len snarled, the venom in his voice surprising everyone.  The moment of silence was enough that Barry took a deep breath, and readied himself to blurt it all out.

“We’re safe with the Rogues because Len is the leader,” Barry said, saying the words slowly, “and Len is my partner.”

_Partner._  Why was that the word that jumped into Barry’s head?

“Partner?” Joe repeated, skeptical.  “Barry, you realize that almost sounds like-”

“Dating,” Barry finished.  

Joe looked at Barry, face slowly hardening with realization.  Joe’s gaze slowly went to Len, who was sitting, callous and emotionless, watching the exchange without a word.  The three seconds it took Joe to reply ticked by Barry’s head, each agonizingly long.  “Leonard Snart,” Joe said slowly, saying the words without any hint of what was going on in the detective’s head.

“Hm?” Len said, raising an eyebrow.  

“You fucking _sociopath,”_ Joe snarled, “what sort of mind control-”

“Now, hold on, Joe,” Henry said, standing up just a bit, holding his arm in front of Len as if to protect him.  Len blinked at Henry in confusion.  “Barry is old enough to make his own choices, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t know enough about Len Snart to make any rash judgments-”

“I’ve read his file,” Joe argued, “Snart is a killer, a manipulator, a thief, and an anarchist, and a man, he’s-”

“I really hate to remind you of this,” Len interrupted, “but I am _literally_ six feet away from you.”

“How could you let this man _near_ Barry, Henry?” Joe said, yelling out the words as he ignored Len.  

“I was right here in Iron Heights alongside you, Joe,” Henry reminded him, “and I’m Barry’s father, not his-”

“And you let this continue?!” Joe shouted.

“Calm _down,_ Joe!” Henry matched Joe’s volume.

“Do you have any idea how old Snart is?” Joe yelled, anger making his hands shake.

That caused Henry to pause.  “I…”

“Snart, you are-” Joe started to say, obviously the beginning of a long rant.

“This is _done,”_ Barry yelled, voice shaking just a bit, the volume doubling in the room.  Joe paused at the sound, and Barry continued, quieter, trying to keep his stomach from churning, “I’m not asking your opinion, or your blessing.”  The words hurt to say, even worse to see the way Joe flinched hearing them.  “I just needed to let you know.  Len and I are together and that’s… it’s the end of the sentence.  It’s a fact.  It’s not up for debate or for argument, because it’s a fact and… it’s a fact.”

Joe looked at Barry, jaw clenched shut.  Silence.  Barry knew what silence meant.

“And it’s eleven years,” Len said, breaking the quiet.  “Between Barry and I.”

“You,” Joe said, glaring back at Len.  The hatred in his eyes, directed at Len, made Barry’s heart sink.  He _knew_ this would happen- the last thing in the world he wanted was the disappointment and anger in Joe’s eyes.  He had felt sick at the idea of Len going through this but…

Len looked at Joe, not caring and unperturbed by the man's wrath. “I’m sure you’ll get used to it,” Len said to Joe.

Joe’s fists clenched tight at his sides.  “I will _never,”_ Joe promised, “get used to this.  You’re a killer, Snart.”

Barry’s mouth felt dry.  He’d known Joe would say that, and he also knew what he had to say.  “So am I, Joe,” Barry said.

Joe didn’t hesitate.  “You’re not a killer, Barry.”

“I am.  I did,” Barry said.  The look on his father’s face was painful to see, shining eyes, dropped expression, sadness, pity, worry, fear… Joe just looked confused.  “Please, just give Len…” Barry wasn’t sure what to say.  “Just try to open to this.  Because it’s here and it’s happening.”

“You…” Joe looked distraught, wrecked.  It was Barry’s fault, and not Barry’s fault.  

Barry didn’t wish this hadn’t happened, because wishing that meant wishing he didn’t have Len and Barry’s heart ached at the idea of being without Len.  He just wished Joe could accept them together, soon.  

Fuck it. When they were back in Central, Barry was going to bake Iris a hundred batches of brownies and beg her to tell Joe she was pregnant, because maybe that news would help distract Joe from the idea of Barry being with Len.

Joe dropped his voice.  “You can’t be serious about Leonard Snart, of all people.  Barry,” he pleaded.

“Pretty serious,” Len said calmly, “I’m meeting his parents.”

_A joke._ “For real?” Barry hissed between his teeth, giving Len an angry glance.

Len shrugged.

“So, if we can all calm down,” Henry started to say.

“I have to work on getting the truck from Eiling,” Joe suddenly announced.

“This is not the best time,” Henry tried to interrupt.

“Yes it is,” Joe said curtly.  Joe didn’t look at Barry again. He stood up, hunched over slightly, fixed his shirt, and then stepped out the door without another word.

“Dad,” Barry said, not having anything else to say.  He just let the word hang out in the silence.

Henry reached between the stools, finding Barry’s hand, and he held it tightly.  He gave Barry a wistful smile.  “I’ll talk to Joe,” Henry promised.  Then Henry looked over his shoulder at Len, Barry tensed, but Henry said in a friendly voice, “You made quite an impression on him.”

Len grimaced.  “Yes.  That.”

“Perhaps the two of you should get some air,” Henry decided.  “I have to toss out these bandages.”

Len nodded, looking at Henry with an expression Barry couldn’t place.  “Alright.”

“If you walk behind the mess house, the storage vans are kept in a line there.  So there’s some privacy, that’s where everyone goes to talk,” Henry advised.

“Thank you,” Barry said, genuine.  He grasped Henry’s hand, but then got off the stool, taking a step forward to wrap his arms around his father in a tight hug.

“It’s alright, slugger,” Henry said softly.  “I’ll talk to Joe.  You keep your head worrying about Hal Jordan and the Arrow, and everything else you have going on.”

“Thank you,” Barry said again.

“Have him home by eight,” Henry said with a chuckle.  Len grinned at Henry as he walked past him, and Barry felt the dread in his stomach ease.  “Just let Joe have his space,” Henry advised, “and get something to eat.”

“Eat?” Barry asked.

“Don’t you always need to eat something?” Henry asked.

“I… well, yeah,” Barry admitted.

Henry smiled.  “Okay.  So get something to eat, and-”

“Nicetomeetyou.”

Barry looked at Len in surprise.  Len coughed into his hand, clearing his throat.  Len walked to the door, not giving Barry or Henry a glance, and held open the tent door, waiting.  Barry followed him.  “What was that about?” Barry whispered under his breath, but Len took his hand and didn’t reply.

* * *

Caitlin passed by two figures as she was walking from the mess.  She didn’t recognize them at first, there was a large plastic bag in her hand with a generous slab of preserved meat inside that she was being careful not to spill the liquid contents of.  The smell was gross, one of the worst things she’d ever dealt with, and it filled her nose and head quickly.  Strong enough she was sure she’d have a headache.

She’d asked Cisco if he’d join her for a drink later, but Cisco had agreed with enough reluctance that she rescinded the offer.  There was a curly haired, criminal bombshell giving Cisco her undivided attention and Caitlin’s friendship could hardly compete with that tonight.  She didn’t want it to.

Long talks with Hal and Carol did little to make her feel at home.  Caitlin had spent the majority of the day with Grodd.

The two people passed by her, walking close, one whispering something into the other’s ear.  They weren’t distracted from their attention when Caitlin walked out of the mess hall, and were heading behind to the trailers out back. 

_Shawna,_ Caitlin eventually recognized.  Shawna Baez, aka Peekaboo, (a name Caitlin defended) whispering and laughing into Mark Mardon’s ear. Mark of the Mardon brothers, one of the first metahumans Caitlin had ever met, a man who controlled the weather.

The _weather._

Caitlin hunched her shoulders and walked by them.  She clenched the bag tight and then stopped, holding it loose and away from her as the smell got worse.  

“Hungry,” Caitlin mumbled to herself, shaking her head.  The fenced-in cage Grodd was in was far on the otherside of the base from the mess area.  

God was it late.  She needed a drink.  Or twenty.  And a hot path.  Pink pajamas. Caitlin sighed, _Vodka, candles, and a bath bomb_.  Her favorite Friday night recipe seemed like a luxury only attainable of a Greek goddess now.

_And pizza,_ she added, wistful. _Oh, Ronnie._ It was late, late enough that the stars were starting to peek out from over the cloudy, darkening blue sky.

The stars were beautiful.  The most vivid she’d ever seen, swirling and shining, brighter now forty miles from Central City then they’d been over the wild plains of a safari only a year previous.  Hal Jordan claimed he’d been up there, meet creatures- Caitlin hadn’t believed him, so it had only spawned a slew of incredibly stories from Hal and his less talkative companion, Carol.  Caitlin had never considered herself the type of person who dreamed of the stars, it seemed like an escape.  And life with her feet solidly planted on the ground had always been fine, she had a PhD after all, and a husband.  But now the PhD was hardly more useful than knowing how to shoot a gun and her husband was… well, likely dead.

But the stars were beautiful.  Something to look at, something to dream about with the memory of Hal Jordan’s ridiculous tales of aliens and lanterns and- the stars almost looked like lanterns.  She could name most of the galaxies.  There was Orion, and his neighbor-

“Watch it.”  A hand reached out, stopping her from stepping forward.

Caitlin was cruelly brought back into the present, with mud-encrusted socks on her feet, rotten meat in her hands, and a body that stunk of military soap, gunpowder, and blood.   _“What?”_ She snapped, lashing out at the person who’d stopped her.

The person pointed to the space in front of her.  Which was a tent.  She’d been about to walk into it, not noticing because of how dark it had become.  

“I… I…” Caitlin flushed, crimson, and nearly dropped the bag in her hands.

“S’all right,” Mick Rory, _Heatwave,_ said with a shrug.  

The man, the one who’d kidnapped her not too long ago, but had also saved Barry’s life and made her _pancakes,_ he leaned back, crossing one arm over the other.  A line of grey was coming from his mouth, and it took Caitlin a long moment to realize the spark in front of Mick’s lips was from a cigarette.

“Oh, gosh, I… sorry to bother you.  Didn’t mean anything,” Caitlin rambled.

“’s said it’s fine,” Heatwave said, gruff and shrugging.

Caitlin turned to face him, grimaced as the contents of the plastic bag sloshed in her hands.  “I uh… what are you doing out here?” She asked while wincing at how artificial she sounded.

Heatwave shrugged, pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, and shrugged again.

“I have to… uh, get this bag over to Grodd before it gets too dark,” Caitlin told him.   _Why am I explaining this?_ Obviously, their previous encounter a year ago was still in the back of her mind.  After all, it would take quite a lot for a person to get over being kidnapped.

She wished she had a reason to yell at him.  It would be nice to yell at someone.

“Sure you had a lot on your mind,” Heatwave said under his breath.

Caitlin paused.  “Huh?”

“’Cause y’r a doctor,” Heatwave said.

“What? Why?”

“That’s why,” Heatwave gestured to the tent Caitlin had almost walked into.  Caitlin blushed again, and bit down a rude reply that was childish and made no actual sense.  “Bye, Doctor Snow,” Heatwave said.  He raised the lit cigarette to his lips again, and now Caitlin could see he was grinning at her.

She turned sharply on her heels and walked briskly away.  Caitlin shook her head rapidly to clear it, and didn’t let herself slow down until she was far away from the firestarter’s line of sight.

* * *

Barry had the horrible thought ‘ _why does my dad know about this place?_ ’ that he promptly banished from his mind, scrubbed out, and refused to think about again.  Because when he and Len walked past the first car, there were definitely two female voices moaning, and later two people who were cuddling, and very obviously sharing spit, against another of the supply vehicles, and it was so obvious exactly what this area had a reputation for.

Barry wasn’t helping the reputation of the place, not when he gasped out loud as Len’s hand ran slowly down his chest, and then… it was just embarrassing, moaned when Len finally kissed him.

“Mm,” Len said, mouth dropping from Barry’s lips to kiss along his jaw, “do that sound again.”

“Make me,” Barry replied. Len chuckled against his throat, and Barry grasped Len’s shoulder’s tight, lifting his leg enough to curl around Len’s hips.  Len’s arm pressed against the side of Barry’s thigh to hold him there.  

Pushed up against the side of the car, one of the metal outcroppings of the door Barry was pushed against dug into his back.  They should probably move inside, except neither of them had the key and Barry wasn’t keen on knocking on the car of the two lesbians to ask where they could get one.

Len’s cold gun _was_ a possibility, could probably break the door's handle to get them inside. Barry was distracted from that train of thought by the slow roll of Len’s hips into him  “Oh, _fuck,”_ Barry mumbled.

Len’s mouth was on his again, distracting, amazing, Len’s breath hot, tasting bitter like beer, Len’s tongue in his mouth and Barry met his.  For a moment just that, grinding up into each other, Len’s lips pressed into his own, and then Barry moved, kissing along the side of Len’s neck.  Len turned his head for access, and Barry kissed, burying his nose against Len’s skin and breathing deeply.

“…ight the _king of zombies_ _!_ …”

The people next to them were loud.  Barry ignored them, dropped his hand to Len’s belt.  “You have the-”

“’course I do,” Len said, and Barry could hear Len’s smile.  Len thrust his hips against Barry’s hand, and Barry let his fingers wander for a moment, feeling the bulge in Len’s jeans, his own body responding in excitement to what he knew was coming.  

“Lube?”  Barry clarified, just in case.

“I said I have it,” Len said, amused.  “Mm, Barry,” he added, mouthing Barry’s ear.  Barry was about to respond when.

“-I am NOT running away, Mark!”

_Shawna?_ Barry recognized.  He shook his head, concentrating on getting Len’s belt off with one hand.  Barry leaned back, to kiss Len’s mouth again but then he noticed Len wasn’t paying attention.  At all.  Barry frowned.  “Len?” He asked.

Len made a “sh” noise, looking at the direction the words were coming from with his head slightly tilted as he listened.

Barry sighed, exaggerated, made it as loud, weary, and obnoxious as he could but Len was still listening to the other voices.

A couple more heated words were exchanged while Barry wasn’t paying attention, and then he heard Mark, “Shawna! We need to run away from these people!”

“From _Hartley?”_ Shawna said, loud and angry.  She wasn’t far away, her voice was clear, probably only obscured by two vehicles between them.

“Shit,” Len said, loud into Barry’s ear.  Len stepped away from him and Barry almost whined out of frustration.

“Seriously?” Barry asked.

“I have to stop this,” Len told him.  Len fixed the belt Barry hadn’t even managed to get off yet, which was a strangely depressing sight.  The universe was _not_ being fair at this particular time. Barry really deserved to get off with Len after today and…

“I’m pregnant not in quarantine!” Shawna, so loud she could have been screaming.

“We have to go _now!”_  Mark.

“No! Fuck that!” Shawna.  Barry agreed with her.

Barry sighed, another exaggerated, weary sigh.  Then he cleared his throat, and finally Len looked at him.  “No?” Barry asked.

Len shook his head.  “Can’t risk looking the metahumans,” he said, grabbing Barry’s hand.  And then Len tugged Barry toward the voices. _“Pregnant,”_ Len said under his breath as he moved past the supply car, “shit.”

“Can’t Lisa be the leader for a day?” Barry mumbled under his breath, but he followed Len.


	37. Into the Dark

[I am glad,] Grodd said, seeming like there would be more. Caitlin waited at the edge of the fence, a plastic net that would hardly keep a deer out much less an undead gorilla half Grodd's size, but the gorilla sat inside the area unmoving. His shoulders were raised over his head, curled into a corner, tufts of gray hair along his back. The meat Caitlin had brought lay, untouched, at the side of the cage. She knew that Grodd would come to get it once she was gone.  

The gorilla said nothing else. His shoulders rose and fell as if he was breathing, though Caitlin knew Grodd no longer had to breathe. One of the contradictory and perplexing traits of the zombies.

"We have a storage container that attatches to the van," Caitlin told the gorilla, again, "tomorrow when we leave we'll put you inside."  Grodd didn't respond.

He used to... he used to be curious, and gentle, dumb, and _small._  Caitlin missed that Grodd, now the little gorilla she'd trained to recognize shapes and colors was a Mighty Joe Young sized, speaking... oh she had no idea how to describe him.

Caitlin left, her hand lingering on the plastic fence for a singular moment and then she was gone. She stuck her hand in her pockets, squinted her eyes against the low, gray darkness, and trudged forward. At least the meat was gone but the smell of that flesh still lingered in her nose, along with the ashen poignant scent of a cigarette.

Caitlin shook her head at the memory. _I don't know how Cisco and Barry managed to look past everything that happened,_ she thought, frowning.

Then, just as she stepped back into the defensive fence wall of the military compound, nodding to the guard, Caitlin paused. "That's not true," she said out loud.

"Huh?" The guard, an older woman who looked as tired as Caitlin felt, stared at her.

"Oh!" Caitlin blushed. "N- nothing. Talking to myself."

The guard shrugged at that, and returned to the likely, mind-numbingly boring task of staring out at the dark abyss with a flashlight and a gun.

Caitlin swallowed, harsh, and entered the military base with her mind spinning. _Cisco and Barry just aren't thinking with their heads,_ she said, convincing herself, _they're men after all. I have to be more practical._

She stopped, a little lost as the uniform shapes of tent after tent filled her vision. Alrght, the showers were the large, blocky building to her right, and if she went that way she'd go right past the tent she and Cisco and Lisa were sleeping in. Caitlin jutted her chin forward and stepped along.

 _He aimed his gun at me,_ she remembered, _besides, he has those burns all over his arms and he's... wild. Simply not my type._

Ronnie was her type. _Aka, her husband. Aka, the man I haven't seen in a month and even less before that..._ Caitlin's mind added up, sourly. She sighed. Now wasn't the time for this discussion. Besides, Ronnie was missing and no one knew what had happened to him. _Again._  And what if she attempted to move on from Ronnie, _again,_ only to have him suddenly return, _again. Only to disappear AGAIN,_ her thoughts added.

Caitlin paused, rubbed her eyes and nose, and blinked wearily at the shadowy dirt at her feet. "My mind is not listening to me right now," she mumbled.

Mick Rory, aka Heatwave, was an interesting thought but that was all Caitlin could let him be. Ronnie was out there somewhere with Professor Stein, just as likely to return to her as all the other times he'd disappeared. They hadn't even been married half a year.   _They_ were _supposed_ to be in their honeymoon phase.

Except Barry and Leonard Snart were in their honeymoon phase. Iris and Eddie put all historically famous lovers to shame with their sweetness and doting on each other. And basically... everyone _else_ was in the honeymoon phase except Caitlin, the one who was _actually married._

She twisted the ring on her left hand as she walked forward, head bowed low to the ground. It was hard being lonely. All it took was a few seconds of conversation with a pyromaniac and- oh shit did she have a type?  Caitlin blinked. Is _that_ why? Mick Rory was certainly uh... 'fiery', though his personality was almost entirely opposite to Ronnie and where Ronnie looked like an Abercrombie and Fitch model (and she really liked that) Mick Rory looked like a warning billboard for forest fires.  All Mick needed was a ranger hat and a bear-

Caitlin giggled, and then clamped her hand over her mouth in horror. _No,_ she thought, serious.

_Ronnie left me here. He keeps leaving me.  I never know if he's dead or not and I hate it, I hate it so much, I hate that he thinks he has to protect and defend me instead of respecting my-_

_No. No. Nonono,_ Caitlin thought, shaking her head wildly. She found her tent, there was a pile of rocks by the door that she and Cisco had put so they'd recognize it. _I will not consider it at all. If Ronnie comes back-_

There were _sounds_ coming from the tent. _Moans._ Primarily Cisco's, and Caitlin flinched.

She stood there for a moment, drenched in self pity until she felt tears boiling up under her eyes. Caitlin shook her head fiercely. _I'm sure Mr. Allen has room in his tent,_ she decided, and clenched her teeth and her fists to banish the little voice in her brain that said, _"if Cisco and Barry can do it, why can't you?"_

* * *

Barry followed Len, crossing his arms over his chest and dragging his feet in the dirt. He was... really annoyed. While he'd love to work on metahuman-solidarity with Shawna and Mark, Len and him had been about to... he was in his mid twenties and horny and this was _aggravating._

Mark had wide, frightened eyes the moment he saw Len, which narrowed with anger quickly. Shawna, who'd been standing away from Mark, leaning against the wheel of one of the vehicles, looked relieved to see Barry and Len.

"So you're spying on us now?" Mark growled at Len.

"I was in the area," Len said. He walked forward, toward Mark, and then didnt stop until Mark took a step back. Then the two men glared at each other, Mark's hands clenched into fists and Len's hand close to his thigh holster.

Shawna rolled her eyes.

Mark didnt move. He watched Len like a mouse watching a cat, nervous, but Mark had drawn himself up with a strength and courage Barry hadn't seen in the man since the cult had beat Mark down. Mark looked more like the Mardon brother, the dangerous metahuman criminal Barry had first met.

"Leonard," Len said suddenly.

Barry stared at him in confusion. Shawna echoed that feeling.  Mark, puzzled, said, "What does-"

Len interrupted, "For a name.  It's a good one."

Barry groaned aloud and rubbed his forehead. _His arm feels better and he's back to 'this',_ Barry thought, exasperated, and a little... pleased.

Mark Mardon looked like he was about to explode. "I will _never,"_ he spat, furious, "name a child of mine after _you-"_

"Really?" Len asked, looking over at Shawna. Barry saw Shawna give Len a shrug, she was not nearly as perturbed as Mark. "After all I did?" Len said to Mark, "Rescuing you. Feeding you when you couldn't. Getting you out of the cold. Protecting your girlfriend. I would _think_ a person would be grateful."  Len's volume lowered to a growl, "instead I hear you planning to escape."

"You can't hold us here," Mark said with confidence, "none of you fuckers have any idea what it's like to be like Shawna and I-"

Barry cleared his throat. Mark ignored him.

"Then by all means, go travel in the wilderness," Len said, his comment harsh, "after all you did _so well_ as leader before I came along, Mardon."

Air swirled around Mark's fists, he glared at Len with his entire body shaking in fury. The sky was growing darker, but Mark didn't move. The weather wizard swallowed, hard and painful.

"That's not fair," Shawna said.

Len looked at her, raising an eyebrow, and let her continue.

"We escaped from solitary confinement in a jail into the apocalypse," Shawna said, "Mark protected Hartley and I as best as he could. We got into a bad situation that led to DeVoe taking us, yeah. That _happened._ But it wasn't Mark's fault."

Mark seemed to gain confidence as Shawna spoke. "I am not letting Shawna risk her life fighting the _Flash's_ war."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Barry asked.

"Your war," Mark repeated. He glared at Barry, and Barry reflexively felt the muscles in his legs tense as if he was going to run. "Do you honestly think the Snarts and Rory would be fighting for you if you weren't fucking Len?"

"Be nice," Shawna said to Mark, "Barry and I are engaged."

Mark scowled. "Stop making that joke," he hissed.

"I am pregnant with your child, Mark. Have a little confidence in 'us', okay?" Shawna said, rolling her eyes again.

"I am fighting the zombies," Leonard said, loudly drawing attention back to him, "because this is the fucking _entire continent_ and I happen to _like_ this continent.  This isn't just the Flash's war. It affects all of us."

"I don't want Shawna to fight it," Mark said sternly.

Shawna's eyes flashed. "However," she growled, “ _I want_ to fight it."

Mark gave Shawna a pained look. "You're _pregnant,"_ he started to say.

"It's a fetus, not a shattered spinal cord," Shawna said, annoyed, "I can still fight and I will.  I am not leaving everyone to run off and live in a cabin somewhere that's..." she searched for the right word, "that's _boring."_

"But Shawna," Mark started to say.

"I know," Shawna uncrossed her arms, "I know. We talked about this. You want a family, but Mark that's..." She sighed. "It _can't_ happen like this. Living in cars and worrying about monsters in the dark? I don't _want_ to live like a... like a..."

Shawna looked at Mark and Len with wide eyes, and then at the dirt by her boots. "I don't want to live on the run like a criminal."

Barry nodded at that. Long, uncomfortable silence accompanied the next few moments, so Barry stepped forward to set his hand on Shawna's shoulder. "Do you want to go for a walk?" Barry asked her.

Shawna nodded.

* * *

James was still a bit confused how this had even _happened._  And for fuck’s sake, he was _Catholic._  Sure, he could be irreverent and he had quite a close relationship with the patron saint of thieves but he’d never gone _this_ out of the box.

Hartley.

James adjusted his shoulder, the tendonitis on his left bothering him a bit.  He’d never quite managed to get rid of it, though he wasn’t going to admit he was in pain to any of the doctors.  Especially, well… now it was very important to make sure he seemed tough.  Because _Hartley._

“Don’t shift so much,” Hartley ordered, his voice sounding like he was smiling.  James could only see the top of Hartley’s head, the piper was sleeping curled up around James’ side, head on James’ chest, ear right over James’ heartbeat.  It was ridiculously endearing considering Hartley was a stuck up, trust fund brat who had the gall to correct James’ Italian.   _‘It’s not grammatically correct, James’_ and _‘If you’re going to claim to be bilingual you should have the decency to pronounce your_ comparativo di uguaglianza _correctly for nouns and adverbs.’_

“If you stop talking, perhaps you’ll fall asleep before your friends return,” James said.  His arms were awkward on his stomach, not touching Hartley.  He wanted to.  It was just weird… everything about this was unfamiliar and James wasn’t really sure what was correct.  He sighed, looking up at the top of the tent and the shapes the shadows made as the candle in the center of the tent fluttered.

Hartley seemed amused by James’ sigh.  “I get to cuddle when I suck you off, it’s the rule,” Hartley said, petulant.  He then reached behind himself, adjusting the cloak that was serving as a second blanket, up higher over his shoulders and face until he was covered up to his nose, only his eyes and hair sticking out.  

It was ridiculous that a man with twenty-eight years could look cute, and yet there it was.  The bane of James’ existence, Hartley Rathaway.

“’wasn’t aware there were rules,” James said to the ceiling.

“There are definitely codes of conduct in our exchange-”

“You mean _fucking?”_

Hartley paused at that, and pulled the blanket down to his chin so he could look up at James’ face.  “Sadly,” the piper said, “this transaction has not extended to fucking.  I have a mental checklist of all the things I want to do with your flexibility when we do reach that point.”

James frowned, thinking aloud, “So, ‘f you suggest-”

“I’ll be the receiver,” Hartley answered before James could finish, and he rested his head back on James’ stomach.

It took a moment for James to translate ‘receiver’ into the ideas of male sex that he was, if barely, familiar with.  “Okay,” he agreed.

And _god,_ did that sound great.  Hartley could be his girl- or not his _girl,_ in that sense, it was glaringly obvious what Harley _wasn’t_ but saying ‘his man’ sounded too chummy.  And this wasn’t friendship. Though James did genuinely not mind Hartley’s personality, and found him rather amusing at most times, but primarily the one word James could think to describe himself and Hartley was ‘confusing’.

James glanced down at the top of Hartley’s head, then the way the other man’s body was curled around his own, back bent so Hartley’s leg could lock around James’ knee, and the curves that were only slightly disguised by the cloak and blanket.  “How soon do you think that’d be?” James wondered.

“Oh, tomorrow,” Hartley mumbled.

James eyes widened and he stared, immovable, up at the ceiling of the tent.  

“Just gotta grab condoms and lubricant,” Hartley continued, seemingly close to falling asleep, “any gas station.  But I know Barry and Captain have plenty.”

Hartley _really_ moved fast. All it had taken for Hartley to come onto him was James offering some sympathy when the piper came up from the basement of the municipal building, rubbing his eye like he’d been punched.  And then Hartley, with his ridiculously flirtatious comments, made James uncomfortable more than not because he was certain Hartley was making fun of him.  It became clear, in Iron Heights, when Hartley dropped to his knees and gave out that… ‘intense’ was the only word to describe it, that _moan_ that made James resolve melt away.  

Shit, was Hartley noisy.  James was _not_ complaining.

Definitely not complaining.  James had the lovely record of 0 nights with any woman since the apocalypse started, and Hartley seemed similarly frustrated, so no one could really fault James forgiving in.  Right? No, definitely of- of course not.  And Hartley didn’t even look like a regular guy anyways, not with that Marilyn mole and that long hair the piper hadn’t cut since the apocalypse.

It was _impossible_ to say no to Hartley when the other man was on his knees, looking between James’ legs like a starving man finding an oasis.  James was certain if Hartley had gone to any of the other men they’d have folded just as quickly as James had.  

“Oh,” Hartley said, probably with a smug grin on his face, James could hear the ‘smug’, _“that_ shut you up.”

James huffed air out of his nose in annoyance.  “You’re the one who’ll get fucked,” he reminded Hartley, thinking it might take the piper down a peg.

Of course, James forgot who he was talking to, because Hartley just seemed to shudder in excitement. “’can’t _wait,”_ Hartley mumbled against James’ chest.

James swallowed. Hard.  There was no question Hartley Rathaway was the bane of James existence.  Fuck, was this… twenty-eight year old man aggravating.

“You’ll do me good,” Hartley said, nonchalantly teasing.  Hartley yawned, stretched, and then dropped his face back onto James’ chest without any shame. “Fuck me hard with that giant cock of yours.”

“You say that so much it’s getting patronizing,” James pointed out.

“Giant.  So big.  Very manly,” Hartley added, “very aggressive. Masculine.  Large. Exorbitant.”

“Sure,” James said, annoyed, “and you’re the prettiest girl to ever suck me off.”

Hartley turned his head, chin resting on James’ chest so he could look James in the eye, and winked. “You know I am.”

Hartley was _ridiculous_ it pissed James off to no end.  James could count on one hand the few people in his life that had _ever_ managed to best James in a conversation, and Hartley was one of them..  Serious, James asked, “Honestly, Hart, am I the only straight man you’ve ever been with?”

Hartley laughed out loud.  

* * *

“Are you alright?”  Barry asked, looping Shawna’s arm around his.

Still holding the flashlight at the ground by their feet, continuing their aimless walk in a zig zag, looping pace, Shawna leaned her head against Barry’s shoulder.  Her hair pressed up against Barry’s nose, and he had to turn his face away not to sneeze. But he held her tighter against him.

“He just wants to make it work,” Shawna said with a sigh.  Barry didn’t feel the need to talk, he let his eyes wander over the gray-green grass, his bare feet collecting dirt underneath him- which he wasn’t worried about, a short run in a circle would burn all that excess crud under his toenails- and it was sort of fascinating to watch the way his feet touched the ground. It reminded Barry of being at a beach and digging his feet under the sand only to lift them up and watch the steady rain trickle down the sides of his feet.  He finally understood the fascination with walking around barefoot.  It sort of gave the evening a much more… un-real quality.

Barry hoped Shawna was feeling the peaceful moment just as much as he was.  

“Do you think Mark has a point?” Shawna asked, stopping them.  

Barry’s first reaction was to say ‘no’ and then he froze.  “I…” He said, realizing it himself, “I’ve considered leaving the group too.  Thought it would be easier to get supplies and- I could keep Len safe, run him out of danger, I just can’t carry more than one person.”

Shawna raised her head from Barry’s shoulder, eyes wide.  “I can only teleport one person,” she said, with a voice that… could _relate_ to Barry’s experience.  

Barry was struck with the intensity of that.  Shawna understood him- probably more than any of the other metahumans, Shawna was a person with a caring heart who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Barry’d devoted months of his life after Henry was arrested to trying to figure out how to break his father out of Iron Heights. Could he really blame Shawna for using her powers to do the same for her then-boyfriend?

“I think we’ve all considered leaving the group,” Barry told her.

“Especially,” Shawna said with a sigh. She looked at the dirt by their feet that was illuminated by the flashlight, the only part of their world in color. “No offense but the rest of us didn’t want to risk our lives looking for you and Iris’ fathers.  I mean,” Shawna said, genuine, “I _love_ you and Iris. And… and you need to talk to Iris more, by the way, she misses you. I just…” Shawna shook her head.  “I love you both. But I… I know Mark, and I know _Hartley,_ much longer than the two of you.  I don’t want to risk my possible future family with Mark for people I’ve known a few weeks.  I don’t know if I could even do that for Hartley, and he is my _best_ friend.”

Barry felt guilt rise up in his stomach as he knew she was right.  “But Len is in charge,” Barry understood, “and so is Eddie, so everyone has to follow the person in charge.”

“There isn’t enough choice,” Shawna told Barry, looking in his eyes, serious.  “You’re the only one who can convince Len, besides his sister.  People need to feel they have _some_ control over what we do, and our destiny.  Of course I trust your boyfriend, Barry, he’s saved our lives and he managed to keep everyone from killing each other, when Mark has very good reason not to like the Wests so-”

“I should have realized he wouldn’t be comfortable in the group when Joe was here,” Barry said. “Oh, god.” He dropped his hands out of Shawna’s to run one hand over his forehead.  

“Len talked him out of it,” Shawna told Barry, “and Iris and I have had some really good talks.  We just need… we need to vote on important things.  We need to not be forced to risk _everyone’s_ life and…” Her voice grew almost speech-like in her determination as she added, “We need to keep more people than Roy Bivolo guarding our home if we’re going to make a place for ourselves, and for Iris and me.  Mostly me.  Also Iris.”

“Mostly you,” Barry repeated with a small grin.

Shawna grabbed Barry’s arm again, and looped it in her own.  “I am so upset,” Shawna said, her voice joking, and she turned them around to walk back to the supply cars where Len and Mark would be, “we didn’t manage to create the ultimate speedchild.”

Barry snorted, mind jumping back to the tranquil moment of before. And he felt better walking back, because wandering aimlessly into the darkness was not his idea of a fun night.  “Teleporting weather child sounds nice,” Barry pointed out.

Shawna sighed, as exaggerated as she could manage, holding onto Barry’s arm to fling her wrist onto her forehead and bend back dramatically, though the theatrical moment was gone almost as soon as it started.  “I do _not_ want a child whose moods change with the weather like Mark,” Shawna announced, half-teasing, half-serious, “it is bad _enough_ listening to the same two albums on repeat just to keep from waking up in a hailstorm.  Can you _imagine_ how pissy they’d be everytime it rained?  Like a bunch of thoughtless, dehydrated sorority girls on their time of the month.”

Barry wrinkled his nose in disgust at that.  “Is Mark-”

“Is it _really_ nepotism to name a girl Lashawna Jr.?” Shawna wondered out loud as they walked, playing with the flashlight in her hand.  “Oh wait, ‘nepotism’ isn’t the right word…”

“If men do it all the time, I don’t see why not,” Barry told her.

“It just seems adorable to have a little, curly-haired Lashawny running around, waving a chainsaw-”

“Chainsaw?” Barry repeated.

“She’s going to be badass, Barry,” Shawna insisted, eyes gleaming, “she was born during the apocalypse after all.”

* * *

“Don’t you dare,” Iris said slowly.  She cast her eyes to the entrance of the tent, skittish, knowing at any moment her father or the other soldier who shared the tent would come back inside.

Eddie was rifling through his coat, his shirt, pants, bag, every single item he’d taken with him like a man possessed.  His eyes were wide, shoulders hunched over his head and tense.

Iris swallowed, hard. She could feel pressure building under her eyes but forced it down.  She knew this was what Eddie would do, the moment she told him the news.  React.  Overcompensate.  Lash out. Worry.  Seek help. “Eddie… that man,” she started.

“He wasn’t lying,” Eddie said, looking up from his jacket.  His jaw was set tight, face nervous “You _know_ he wasn’t lying,” he asked.

“There’s no guarantee,” Iris started to say.

“When we found the military we were supposed to _stay with them_ ,” Eddie said, and Iris sighed, having heard it before.  “Not head off into the wild with the same batch of criminals we had before.”

“Eddie-”

 _“Barry_ was supposed to protect _us,_ not try to make us all listen to a man we both know is _dangerous,_ and known for being _ruthless-”_

“Len has been nothing but helpful,” Iris protested.

“Are you forgetting-”

“No, but maybe _you_ are.”

Eddie nodded, swallowed hard.  Everything about him looked distressed.  “The military was supposed to make us safe, Iris, but all they’re doing is sending us away with a zombie gorilla.”

“I know.”  Iris’ heart sank.

“You’re pregnant, Iris,” Eddie repeated.

She gave him a shrug.  “We have other options,” she pointed out.

Eddie nodded, acknowledging the truth of that.  “I just… I _want_ to start a family with you, Iris.”

Iris felt her chin shaking with emotion and she had to force it back, swallow up the pressure building behind her eyes and in her throat that threatened to gush out.

“If this man is serious-”

“We don’t know that,” Iris insisted.

“He said he would help me.  Help _you.”_  Eddie said, and Iris’ head reeled at the words.  She wasn’t sure what to think, or who to believe. Desperately, she wanted to be safe with Eddie, wanted to know that they were fine, but the reality of the situation was harsher than that.

“Eddie,” she said, soft and miserable.  Her emotions were reflected in Eddie’s expression, the open sadness on his face so clear and vibrant- and she knew that was why she loved hi.  Eddie never hid anything from her, Eddie loved her and never hesitated to show her, Eddie told her when he had problems, he supported and uplifted her, he was her cheerleader and best friend.

“Barry could have run us all to Hawaii and back by now,” Eddie said, a hint of anger behind the sorrow in his voice.  “But Leonard Snart is keeping Barry safe and contained, but I don’t _care_ about his reasons, Snart may be putting Barry first but we… you and I… we can’t afford to.  I need,” Eddie said, stepping forward.

Iris stepped into his arms and pulled him into a hug.

“I need us to be safe,” Eddie said softly.

“I know,” Iris said.

“There’s nothing else, Iris. Nothing to distract us.  No jobs, no ambitions or goals besides you and me, somewhere with this kid. Safe and,” and then Eddie added, a bit of wonder in his voice, “married.”

“This person, Eddie,” Iris said, nervous.

“He said he wants to make a society to keep everyone safe.  Rebuild Central. He’s not like Leonard Snart, Iris, this man he- he’s smart, I can tell.  He knows things have to be done and he’s just as fast as Barry.  He promised,” Eddie said, as if to convince himself, “he promised to keep us safe.”

“Eddie…” Iris said, and left the sentence unfinished.

“I won’t contact him,” Eddie promised, “unless you say that I should.  You’re the one-”

“We both are,” Iris interrupted.

Eddie shook his head.  “But it’s your decision,” Eddie told her. He held her tight.  “I… I will try to trust Leonard Snart if you really think I should but… I thought we’d be safe now.  We’re not.  It’s just the same as before we just…” he said, “we have bigger guns but more mouths to feed.  It doesn’t mean we are in any better a place than we were before they came.”

“Please don’t, just wait,” Iris asked, pulling Eddie closer to her.  “Give me time to think about this.”

“I’ll wait,” Eddie promised, “I’ll let you chose.”

“Thank you,” Iris said, genuine.

“I love you,” Eddie told her.

“I love you too,” Iris said, her voice soft, and she leaned up to kiss him.

* * *

“Len,” Barry said.

Len and Mark looked… very guilty and nonchalant.  It was… suspicious.  Barry gave Len a look, but Len pretended not to see it.  Len clapped his hand on Mark’s back, and Mark flinched.

“How’d it go?” Barry asked, because from the look of everything, it didn’t seem to have gone well at all.

“Let’s go, Boo,” Mark said, shrugging Len’s shoulder away.  He took several long, quick steps to Shawna’s side and then tugged on her sleeve.  Shawna let go of Barry immediately, looking at Mark with concern.

“Make good decisions, Mardon,” Len said, eyes narrowed and hand waved in a parody of a friendly gesture.

Barry didn’t like that.

“You will see us,” Mark hissed, pulling Shawna away, “tomorrow at dawn, by the van with _everyone_ else.”

Len tilted his head.  “Bring me a snack.”

Mark glared.  In the distance, rainless thunder roared, a series of crashes and sparks of light that illuminated the scene with a short burst of color before it faded again to gray.  “Come on, Shawna,” Mark said, and he turned sharply around, his feet stomping into the ground as he left.

Shawna shook her head, gave Barry a meaningful glance as if to say ‘don’t forget what we talked about’, and then left with her flashlight, following Mark into the dark.

The moment they were gone, Barry turned to Len.  He opened his mouth, ready to burst into an angry rant, except he didn’t have words to describe what he was feeling.  Barry’s fists clenched tight with anger.

“I needed to,” Len said, defending himself from Barry’s look of anger, “Mark needed to be reminded who is in charge.”

“And that’s _you?”_ Barry demanded.

Len looked at Barry, expression blank, but then Len’s face dropped a bit and Barry could see the confusion in Len’s features.  “Of course it’s me, Barry, I’m the leader,” Len reminded him, “who else?  I’m the most qualified.”

“Really?” Barry asked, stepping forward.  “A leader has to listen to everyone-”

“I do,” Len insisted.

“Mark just found out Shawna was pregnant,” Barry reminded Len, “he’s _scared.”_

“I don’t give a shit if he’s fucking having quintuplets,” Len said, voice aggravatingly calm, “I don’t want Mark convincing anyone to go running off along without a plan.”

“That’s what we always do-” Barry started to say.

“And every time, someone nearly dies!” Len raised his voice, “Even when we _have_ a plan, this is _dangerous_.  I lost my fucking hand, how soon do you think it will be until someone dies?!”

Barry stared.  “I…”  He reached his hand up to his face, rubbing at his chin and the stubble there.  “It’s…” Barry thought.

“We just got two more metahumans,” Len said, slowly and far more contained.  He finished the distance between him and Barry, and raised his hand, brushing Barry’s hair back with his palm.  “Our group-”

“Your group,” Barry corrected.

Len shrugged at that, and said without shame, “My group. It’s getting stronger.  We are close to having enough members that we could find a permanent home out there, perhaps even the one we already have in Central.  Mark and Shawna running off on their own is the dumbest idea he could have.”

“So you threaten him because you’re trying to keep him safe,” Barry said, uncomfortable.

“I _reasoned_ with him,” Len said. With a bit of a grin, he added, “Scout’s honor.”

Barry raised his eyebrows, incredulous.  “I can’t see you as a boy scout,” he added.

“I never was,” Len said.  He rested his hand on Barry’s chin.  “You however…”

“Len,” Barry held Len’s wrist, stopping him.  “What happened with Mark?”

“I reasoned with him,” Len insisted.  “I told Mark it was suicide to go out alone, that the best option was for him to stay safe with a group of others, and that Shawna would be miserable without her friends.  No one likes to be told their ideas are shit and he’s mad about it.” Len tilted his head and frowned, nearly a pout.  “I am not _trying_ to alienate people.”

“It’s just-”

“Today was a long day,” Len said, looking carefully into Barry’s face.  “I think you need to go to sleep.”

“I-” Barry couldn’t exactly deny that the day had been long.  And the mood was sort of… flattened every time he’d tried to get something going with him and Len. It was aggravating though, thinking about it, and how much he wanted to just… fucking, jump Len in the back of one of the cars.

“I’m insisting now,” Len said, softly, “you’re coming back with me and going to sleep.”

Barry sighed, nodding.  “My dad has extra blankets in his tent,” he said.

Len smiled.  “Okay,” he decided with a nod.  Barry let go of his grip on Len’s wrist, and then Len leaned forward, giving Barry a slow kiss on his forehead. Barry felt himself melt into Len’s arms, and as suddenly as the lightning from before, Barry actually felt tired.

* * *

That night, Caitlin dreamt of a man on fire.  It was the same each night, and had been for almost an entire year, except tonight the dream was more fluid and she couldn’t see the shape of the man beyond the flames.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There waaaas more I wanted to do with this chapter but I had to hold off working on it today for family obligations, and I just was invited out. It'll be included in my next update.


	38. Piper and Trickster - Ch. 29, Ch. 32, and Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First part of this chapter takes place in the municipal building after Hartley speaks with Len (Ch. 29), the second part of the chapter takes place during the night in Iron Heights (Ch. 32), and the final part of the chapter takes place in the present timeline as the group travels back from the military base to Central City, with Grodd, Hal, and Carol.

_Municipal building of Central City, (5 days from the present)_

_Trickster_

“You should stop carrying that rat around you all the time,” James said, pointing to the obvious bundle of an animal at Hartley’s shoulder.

Hartley had just stepped out through the door, the hood pulled low over his face.  It was hard to see anything in the atrium of the municipal building as it was growing dark. Caitlin had thrown open the doors, and was standing in front of them, her gun at her side.  James, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, had been waiting for Hartley and the others to finally come up the stairs and frankly, when Hartley just grunted and walked past him without a word, was a little offended.

“Piper,” James said, stepping forward. Hartley Rathaway didn’t even turn around, just stood over to the side, one hand in his pocket and the other on that freaking flute the man carried around.  James still had no idea what the purpose of the musical instrument was.  Obviously a weapon but… “You’re weird, Rathaway,” James said.

He stepped close enough to tug on the back of Hartley’s hood.  Grinning, James pulled even as Hartley reached up to try and tug it back.  “What’d you and Snart have to talk about anyways-” James started to ask, playful tone in his voice.

“Not your _business,”_ Hartley snapped. He pulled his hood out of James’ hand in a swift jerk.

“No need to get testy,” James said, “did your boyfriends-”

“Fuck. _Off,”_ Hartley growled.  He stepped forward faster than James could process it, grabbing a fistful of James’ orange and blue jacket.  There was a surprising amount of strength in Hartley’s grip, and for a moment James almost took the other man seriously.

“Did you know rats carry plenty of diseases? But you know what doesn't?” James pointed out. He raised one hand, with a flourish, and held it right in front of Hartley’s face.  There was a rock in his hand.  “Pet rocks!” James crooned, “It’s not just a thing of the 70’s!”

Hartley’s face twitched, eyes narrowed with fury.

“Heyyy,” James said slowly, getting serious as he saw a blossoming blue and red tint under Hartley’s eye, “hey, Pied Piper-guy?” James dropped the rock, which fell to the ground with an ignored ‘bang’, and pointed at Hartley’s eye.

Hartley dropped James’ jacket, bit his lip and looked at the floor.  For once, Mr.  I-Have-More-Schooling-Than-Any-Human-Being-Should-Be-Allowed, had nothing snarky to say back to James.

“Pinkeye?”  James joked.

Hartley gave James a glare that made James grin, and sighed in exasperation.  “Cold,” Hartley mumbled as he crossed his arms.

“Well, we _were_ recently experiencing a horrific, apocalyptic winter. I’d offer you my jacket but you might read into it,” James said.  “Am I going to get nothing for the pet rock joke?”

Hartley turned, snarl on his face, looking like he was going to the door near Caitlin, but James grabbed his arm and stopped him.  “What?” Hartley asked, frowning at James.  He didn’t seem so much angry as… sad and resigned.  James had hardly known Hartley long, but it was discomforting to see the regularly, so confidently smug man brought down.

“With Cold,” James said with concern, “was it-”

Hartley glanced toward the staircase, and then behind him at Caitlin...  “I just…” He said slowly, but then something crossed his mind and he straightened up and said matter-of-fact, “I kissed Barry, the Captain didn’t like that.”

There was a weird pit in James’ stomach, which ended up being expressed as a bout of laughter.  Hartley glared as James laughed, and then struggled to control the chuckles.

Hartley eventually sighed, and the lost look on the man’s face managed to get James to stop.

James tried to think of something sympathetic, couldn’t, and blurted out, “I thought you were the other kind of gay.”

Hartley snapped his eyes to James. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I mean,” James gestured with his hands even as he felt himself blushing at the force of Hartley’s gaze, “one is the man and the other is the woman.”

Hartley stared. “When’d you come from, 2005?”

“Huh?”  James blinked, no idea what that meant.

“I am not even going to clarify it for you,” Hartley decided, “it’s just too dumb and beneath me and whenever I try playing nice people think they can walk all over me or stupid shit happens like with  
Barry so under no circumstances am I giving an Italian circus nerd in stripes a lesson on gay sexuality.”

“Well, fuck you, Pipes, I…” James tried to explain what he meant, found himself flailing for words and honestly the feeling was unfamiliar and uncomfortable, “it just seems like you and Len Snart are more the same… you know, like there’s the gay one with the muscle and the one with… out.”

Hartley’s jaw dropped.  “Are… are you calling me a _twink?”_ He asked, furious.

“Is that the word for it?” James asked.

Hartley was silent for a long moment, staring daggers at James.  “Regardless of what you’ve seen in gay porn-”

James face turned crimson and hot. _“I do not-!”_ but at that moment, the staircase door opened and Hartley turned sharply away, walking toward Caitlin before James could finish his sentence.

* * *

_First night, Iron Heights prison (3 days from the present)_

_Trickster_

“In conclusion,” Hartley said, as if his long winded rant in the scarily dark, horror movie-esque prison was the finale of a romantic comedy and not the weirdest thing James had ever heard in his life, “there is an absence of available partners for you and for me, which logically means I think we should take this mutual attraction a step further and see where it goes.”

Who the hell _was_ this guy?  And how could he… propose _that_ with such a… smile on his face.  James needed Hartley to stop smiling, it felt weird.

Now was not a good time.  They were supposed to be hunkering down in Iron Heights for the night, and when James checked out this small office room he’d been expecting to sleep alone in that chair with his feet up on the desk, but now there was a rat on the desk and Hartley’s cloak draped over the chair on top of James’ jacket, and James had his back pressed into the door while Hartley just… smiled at him.  

The only flashlight was on the desk too, so even though James’ first instinct was to shine the light in Hartley’s face he couldn’t reach it.

“You know,” James swallowed hard, looking at anything but Hartley’s gaze, _“Heatwave_ is pretty single too.”

“I don’t have a burn fetish,” Hartley said, slowly.  The brunette stepped even closer, his face close to James and their knees _touched-_ and James felt his whole body stiffen.  

 _Pulse’s beating pretty fast_ , James thought, staring at Hartley and not making a move to leave or to encourage the other man further, _can’t see too much but can enough- okay.  Think through this.  Hartley is obviously- well, kinda pretty for a guy_.  “Why are you asking _me?”_

“Did you… did you miss my entire speech?” Hartley frowned. “Look, sometimes you’re an asshole but I think that you don’t mind me, and I think you’re funny.”

“Funny?” James swallowed.  Well… yeah, he got that.  He was sort of a clown, that much was obvious, but Hartley Rathaway (of _the_ Rathaways) was a genius- and a man.  That was… just as important as the other man’s pretty eyes.

“Especially right now,” Hartley said with a nod.   _Fuck,_ he came on strong, and Hartley took another step forward, his leg skirting around James’ knee and outer thigh- it was definitely a nice change to be pursued by someone, normally getting laid involved excessive work on James’ part, but here Hartley was doing the convincing and James was-

“How?” James asked, the word very important.  “How do you want to- because if…” His voice caught for a second, why the hell was it so hard to find words?! Words were James’ _thing,_ “I’m not alright- I want to know what we are doing.”

Hartley had a serious look on his face.  “I promise, we won't do anything you’re uncomfortable with.  And it doesn’t have to mean anything, you know?”  He said the next bit like he was repeating something someone else had told him, “Just two people getting off in the absence of other options.”

Hartley stepped back, away from James and the air in the office felt frigid without the other man near.  He didn’t move far, just hopped up onto the desk like it was nothing and then Hartley leaned forward, gloved hand under his chin, looking at James with a studying gaze.  “You’re open to the idea?”

James sighed.  He shrugged, and said, “We’ve both been celibate for half a year.”

Hartley just _beamed,_ his whole face lighting up, smile wide and encouraging.   _“Exactly,”_ Hartley said, back of his boots tapping on the desk, “at this point I’d grind up with a zombie.”  James grimaced, and then Hartley thought for a moment and did the same.  “Not…” Hartley corrected, “not _literally.”_

“Good.  Because I’m sure the dead have a slew of STDs,” James said with a grin.

“I have one rule,” Hartley said, suddenly serious.

“Am I gunna have to sing?” James teased.

Hartley looked at him, confused.  “What?”

“Because you have a music fetish,” James explained.

“It’s not a _fetish-”_

Hartley looked cute when he was annoyed.  James couldn’t help but continue, “Because if I have to serenade you, then my rule is you have to suck my dick.”

Hartley narrowed his eyes.  “This ‘emasculating’ thing you’re trying to do,” he said, and James was about to protest but Hartley continued, “is really working for me.”

James had no idea how to reply to that.  Thankfully, Hartley continued what he was saying without a pause, “My one rule,” Hartley said, voice dropping and tone serious, “do not _brag_ about fucking me, do not make any reference to what I look like or how I act in this room, don’t fool yourself for an instant into thinking I’m a _woman,_ and don’t get jealous if I move on when someone actually honest about their sexuality comes along.”

“That’s not one rule,” James said, throat dry and head whirling as he tried to wrap his mind around it.

“Imagine semicolons.”

“Still not one-” James started to say.

“I’m very serious.  No bragging, and no getting hung up on this unless I tell you to.” Hartley reached out, gloved hand grabbing James’ striped shirt.  His hand moved straight across the beam of the flashlight, for a moment James’ line of sight flickered dark but then it was back to Hartley.  “You’re funny, you’re hot, Italian, and obviously athletic but you’re worth nothing to me if any actual gay man came along.”

James glared.  He grabbed Hartley’s hand and pulled his grip away.  “I’d rather fuck a woman anyways,” he said, which was very close to ruining his chances here and James immediately regretted that.

Hartley smirked at him.   _“Yeah,_ not after you’ve had me, I can promise that.”

“You’ve never had me either-”

“Moronic, mostly straight Italian whose main redeeming quality is his abs?” Hartley said, smug, “Color me unimpressed.  I did tell you I’d fuck a zombie, you’re about three steps up from that.”

James was instantly struck with the thought of fucking Hartley silent, until that aristocratic frown turned into gasps and… oh wow. Hartley was _good._  James leaned forward, rested his hands on the desk, met Hartley’s gaze and couldn’t help asking, vindictive, “And how many steps up from me was the Flash?”

Hartley flinched, and the next words were so low James was afraid Hartley was going to tell him to get out, and that James ruined his literal only chance to get laid in half a year, but then Hartley’s hands were reaching toward James’ pants and he said, “Then we’re in agreement.  We’re both filling in until each of us finds someone better.”

Hartley said the most unsexy things James had ever had a person who slept with him say, but for some reason, maybe the spark in his eye, the tilt of his mouth, or the way James knew that at least James was preferable to Mick Rory, and that he was _definitely_ getting laid tonight, made everything Hartley said _fascinating_ and James was hooked.  

Hartley _spread his legs_ , grabbed James’ shirt and guided the man between them, and then acted like a fucking _prince,_ all self-assurance and contentment, as he reached up and pushed his glasses into place on his face. “What’s the number one thing you’ve been craving?” Hartley asked.

James stared for a moment, mind blank until he realized what Hartley was saying.   _Wow,_ this was great.  They were negotiating, and James could talk his way out of a jail.  “Fucking,” James said instantly.

“Not happening,” Hartley said calmly.  “Practically, we don’t have anything for it.  Not even a condom.  That was a dumb request.”

James frowned.  “What’s a _smart_ request then, Pipes?” He asked, annoyed.

Hartley grinned a bit at the nickname, and then said calmly, “In order,” he lifted his hand and counted off with his fingers, “I want to see your dick, I want your tongue in my mouth, I want you to jerk me off, and I _really_ want to suck you off.”

“You _want_ to?” James stared.

“Oh, yeah, also take your shirt off,” Hartley said, shameless, “I can see your body through that tight shirt and I need it.”

“So that’s…” James started to say, just as Hartley’s eyes widened.

“Oh, also,” Hartley said, serious, “not a _word_ about how quickly either of us gets off.  We’ve both been celibate for a ridiculous amount of time.”

James actually felt relieved at that.  “This is gunna be fun,” James said, excited.

“Okay, now is the part where you take that shirt off,” Hartley said, leaning back and waiting.

James shrugged, grabbed the bottom of his shirt and tugged it off quickly.  The shirt fell to the floor with a bit of a loud bang, every nook and cranny of the shirt had _something_ hidden in it after all, James wasn’t very into the idea of empty pockets.   “Only thing that’d make this better is beer and pretzels,” James joked.

Hartley bit his lip, stared at James’ torso long enough that it just felt _weird_ and James stood there, awkward, hands twitching at his sides.  “So uh…” James said, trying to focus on Hartley’s mouth and not that… scarily intense hungry look on Hartley’s face, “the rat isn’t gunna watch us the whole time, is it?”

“She’s a rat, she’ll fall asleep on the chair,” Hartley said, but he shook his head, coming somewhat to his senses.  “Look, you’re going to get me off first, then I’ll do you,” Hartley said, and then his hands were at his pants, unbuckling himself while James watched.  James looked at that, a bit nervous, hand twitching at his side because he’d never done anything like this before, but then Hartley leaned forward and James had only a moments warning before the other man was kissing him.

Hartley’s lips were soft, smooth, somehow so nice to touch James was instantly aware of how chapped his own lips were.  Then Hartley’s tongue ran along James’ mouth, and the other man then sucked on James’ lower lip, forceful, and James breath left him in an instant because the reality of the situation hit all at once.

Guilt, confusion, and an excessive amount of anxiety forced its way into James’ mind, causing a pit in his stomach, but Hartley just kept kissing him.  Hartley didn’t seem worried by James’ lack of response, his mouth exploring James’, constantly moving, sucking, licking, overeager and excited, and then Hartley moaned, low in his throat, a sound lewd enough that the pit of nerves in James’ stomach was slowly turning into arousal.

James responded, hesitant and jerking movements, pursing his lips, trying to meet Hartley’s tongue, and the other man responded twofold.  James instantly felt his body responding, groin feel hot, and knew he was stiffening just from _this._  Fuck, it had been way too long.

This was a great idea, the best, idea, Hartley was a genius and James was going to tell him as soon as Hartley’s tongue stopped flicking the roof of his mouth and those soft, soft lips-

Hartley’s hand brushed against James’ wrist, fingers looking to grab, and James responded without thinking, holding Hartley’s hand in his own .  But then Hartley pushed James’ hand out of his, grabbing his wrist again.  Hartley guided James’ hand down between Hartley’s legs.

Anxiety.  Arousal.  Excitement.  Confusion.

Hartley’s fingers spread James’ hand apart, and then James had Hartley’s cock in his hand, hard, hot, the full length of James’ hand.  James pulled his mouth away, didn’t miss the lustful whine from Hartley that instantly made him regret it, but then stared, concentrating, hand slowly stroking.  

Hartley’s head fell back, neck exposed to James, and he groaned with pornographic frustration.  Hartley bit his lip, James turned his hand to make the angle easier on his wrist, and then Hartley- wow, Hartley was just unabashedly loud.  Every little movement of James hand, each simple motion was met with wordless praise out of Hartley’s throat.  James circled the bottom of Hartley’s cock with his thumb and the noise Hartley made stiffened James so much that he instantly felt his pants were too tight.

Hartley was good, beautiful even, James loved the way Hartley’s mouth opened up, thighs clenched around James’ legs, and Hartley leaned back, opened up for him.  “ _Sei molto sensibile quando ti tocco_ ,” James said, an old habit since most hook ups found his ability to speak Italian sexy.

 _“Logicamente,”_ Hartley replied, without hesitation, “ _è passato troppo tempo_.”

James had literally never had anyone speak _back_ to him in Italian before.  He started stroking his hand faster, not really wanted to get caught up in a conversation where he’d have to translate in his head.  James stared at Hartley’s mouth, his motivation , and moved faster, listening to the more intense moans Hartley made and trying to follow that.  

His hand was getting slick with pre-come, the weirdest feeling he’d ever had, but there was something intense and erotic about bringing someone else to this point.  Every stroke of his hand had Hartley moaning and shaking in encouragement.

 _“Baciami,”_ Hartley said, breathless.  

 _Kiss me,_ James translated, and he did without hesitation.  Lips meeting Hartley’s, and that seemed to be the turning point for Hartley.  Hartley reached out, grasping James’ arm hard enough to bruise, and shit,wow, the noise Hartley made, loud, low in the throat, as his hips jutted forward and back arched from James’ touch.

Hartley spilled out over James’ hand, wrist and forearm, which was sort of fascinating in a morbid way.  James was staring at that, the flashlight making the lines look like shadows, and _holy fuck_ what was James doing?  What _had_ James done?   _Why?_  This was-

“Okay,” Hartley said, still breathing hard.  Brushing his hair back from his forehead, Hartley said, “Hop up on the desk, I’ll suck you off.”

James eyes dropped to Hartley’s mouth, those lips that he could still feel on his own.  Right.  That was why.  

James moved, surprised that his balance was off.  Hartley jumped down from the desk, tucking his dick back into his shorts, and was down on his knees in an instant.  James did what Hartley said, leaning up against the desk, and Hartley was on his knees, face exactly in front of James’ pelvis.

With a sudden spark of worry,  James reached behind him, grabbed his jacket and Hartley’s cloak from the chair, urging that rat off of them, and dropped them down on the floor besides Hartley.  Hartley raised an eyebrow.  “For your knees,” James said, answering the question Hartley didn’t ask.

Hartley was strangely quiet when he took them, sitting up on them, looking at James with slightly narrowed eyes.  It was over quick, Hartley untied James’ shoes, pulled them off, then grabbed James’ pants and tugged them down.

James had no room to protest, and most reasoning was gone in his brain at this point, the feeling of cold air on his half hard cock a relief.  The most he could manage to think to say was, “ _Succhiami il cazzo_.”

Hartley just rolled his eyes.

 _Fuck,_ this was really happening.  James wasn’t sure he was going to last even a minute, he clenched his hands on the desk, knuckles white with the pressure, and stared at Hartley’s mouth like he was hypnotized.  Anticipation was killing him.

Hartley reached out, hand tracing down James’ sculpted chest, and then those lithe fingers traced the inside of James’ thigh, like James was an instrument and Hartley the skilled player.  James loved it, but needed more.

Hartley adjusted himself between James’ legs, and it was incredibly beautiful.  James couldn’t think of anything, mind blank, watching the other man move and realized  in that moment that Hartley was the most sensual person he’d ever seen.  

Hartley reached out, both hands, exploring James’ cock slowly at first, then guided it forward until that soft mouth and tongue slid over the tip.  James’ hips jerked forward, and Hartley’s hands harshly grabbed James’ thighs, pushing the man’s legs farther apart.  

“Sorry,” James apologized, intensely genuine, and Hartley, soft lips sucking on the head, rolled his eyes.  Somehow, still collected and sure of himself with another man’s cock in his mouth- Hartley was the most interesting person James had ever met... though James could admit he was probably biased.

Hartley kept one hand on James’ thigh, mouth sucking slow, hard and intense enough James’ breath came in shaking and shudders ran down his spine.  Hartley’s other hand brushed along the base of his cock, his balls, then the index and middle finger wrapped around the base of James’ cock.

James looked at the ceiling, closed his eyes, let himself _feel_ the sensations. Hartley’s mouth was magic and so hot and tight.  Hartley’s tongue worked overtime, rubbing fast and fucking _perfectly_ against James’ slit, the underside of his cock, and at one moment, pushing up at the underside, tucking and licking at most sensitive part of James’ glans.  

James’ breath hitched at that moment, shoulders lurching forward.  He forgot to breath, the full force of his mind focused on repeating, “-fuck, Hart... oh just- fuck yeah, Pipes, keep that- s-sh-shit... I...oh _fuck.”_  

Hartley didn’t let that spot go, didn’t let up for an instant.  His mouth slowly moved down James’ cock, taking more and more, enveloping James in that tight, beautiful heat, but that tongue just kept rubbing and rubbing at that spot.

Damn, Hartley wasn’t even bragging before, just being _honest._  James had had few blowjobs in his life but there was a huge difference between a girl doing it with disinterest, mostly because James had said _pretty please_ and promised to steal her some fine jewelry, and Hartley who had literally asked to do this.  Hartley took James in his mouth eagerly, wanted it, and those beautiful brown eyes kept flickering back up to James’ face, gauging James’ reactions.

James couldn’t believe he’d lasted as long as he did.  Hartley’s mouth worked him up to the point, easy and fast, and he was gasping, wordless, quicker and then Hartley’s mouth was gone, replaced with a hand that stroked James hard and fast, the tempo not stopping for a second, until James felt his whole body filling with warmth.  He jerked forward, spilling onto Hartley’s cloak that Hartley had put between his legs.

For a moment everything felt abundantly clear, the shadows on Hartley’s face from the flashlight, the darkness of the room around them, the closeness, claustrophobic tightness of the office they were in.  James was almost dumbfounded, the energy of his body bleeding out afterward, a trickle of energy and drowsiness hitting like a wave.

He felt a bit numb, and yet again, completely at a loss for words. Hartley tugged on James’ belt, and James stepped off the desk slowly, feeling a bit like liquid, letting Hartley move him.  

Hartley pulled James to the floor, not saying anything, and James blinked at him.  Confused? Or more sated, like his vision was strangely clear but the rest of his body just felt... drunk.

“We should just sleep here,” Hartley suggested.

James nodded, and when Hartley grabbed the flashlight and turned it off, James fell asleep within a few minutes, wrapped up around Hartley with his hands holding Hartley close to his chest .

* * *

 James honestly didn't mean to leave that morning the way that he did.  He needed to figure things out- because what had happened between him and Hartley had been better than he'd ever expected, and his head was confused (though his dick wasn't). 

But he left abrupt, fast, accidentally stubbed his toe and the door and then stumbled out cursing.  Probably didn't leave the best impression on the barely awake, yawning brunette who'd fallen asleep in his arms.

* * *

 

_Route 15, on way to Central City (present)_

_Piper_

Hartley was miserable because he wasn’t miserable, and that was a problem. 

There was just one van for the group to have to crash into together, meaning everyone but the power-lucky Barry Allen was stuck cramped and uncomfortable for the duration of the ride back to Central- Hartley was sure even Grodd, stuffed into a UHaul, has more space to breathe than him. Lisa Snart drove, and the angry detective West (honestly, the man had a permanent scowl on his face) took the passenger seat, so the rest of the group just had to fit… somehow. It was relentlessly horrible, Hartley grew up with parents that took a private jet to France for dinner and flew back home just because they wanted to eat a particular salad and see a nice view. The drive in the van felt like purgatory. 

Except not quite. Alas, the problem. And it was all Shawna’s fault anyway. 

Hartley loved Shawna, but was consistently pissed at her. He… he could be himself around Shawna, he didn’t have to worry about putting up a strong front, he and Shawna could just _be_  and that was something Hartley had always wished for. So he was grateful. But Shawna kept making Hartley do _stupid fucking stupid stupid things_ and Hartley wanted to pull his hair out. Confessing to Barry was the _dumbest_ idea Hartley’d ever had. 

_“Go with it. You have to be honest with him if you want to move past and be friends. And who knows? Maybe he feels the same.”_

Hartley, pressed hard into the very back of the van, dropped his forehead against the cool glass of the window- the only thing cold, everything else was sticky hot, and felt the pangs of embarrassment again. It was impossible to even think of that moment without… ugh, without feeling like the blood was draining from his head. The window shook, and bounced, his forehead trying to press against it but it was mostly uncomfortable. There was no view, not really, just trees, an occasional car, maybe a zombie- nothing Hartley didn’t see all the time and certainly nothing distracting. 

But the _worst_ thing Shawna had done to Hartley was the man sitting next to Hartley, legs smashed together, arm awkwardly around Hartley’s shoulder thanks to lack of room, and engaged in a ridiculously unimportant conversation with Cisco Ramon about Roadrunner and Coyote cartoons. James was _so_ close, Hartley convinced himself he could hear James’ heartbeat except that pounding in his ears was his own. 

Worst idea, Hartley thought. And he looked in front of him at the back of Shawna’s head, wishing he could find a way to talk to her again, spill his problems but… fuck it. He knew what Shawna would say. 

Hartley grimaced. _She’d say, “He’s sleeping with you, isn’t he? Of course he likes you!”_ But he didn’t, that was just James’ personality, plus the man was Italian and those people were always handsy. _“Look at blah blah blah of course he likes you. You should tell him you have feelings-”_ Shit. Even pretend-Shawn made Hartley uncomfortable. 

He pressed his head hard on the glass, forehead bouncing smaller on it, seeking the cool temperature-

Oh. Snart was taking out his gun. Joe West glared daggers at the man, but Snart casually held the gun in front of him and pressed something. The temperature in the van just dropped ten degrees. Mick Rory grumbled, “Fucking was nice in here, bud.” But Snart just shrugged. 

James breathed a sigh of relief, oh god, the sound made Hartley want to blush and he hated it. God he hated it. James adjusted himself, leaned forward, and then James’ fingertips brushed against Hartley’s shoulder-

Nope. James’ arms were both resting over the back of the seat, in both directions, and there was no way James was attempting to cuddle up to Cisco Ramon and Caitlin Snow, so Hartley couldn’t read into it. James’ contact with Hartley was accidental and didn’t mean anything. 

Hartley leaned forward, careful not to dislodge Antoinette who was sleeping on his lap, until James’ hand wasn’t touching him anymore. 

James hesitated in the middle of his story about ACME bombs, inaccuracies, and the actual black market for creative weaponry that existed in Central City. Cisco was _fascinated_ of course, which made Hartley feel somewhat sick to his stomach. Of _course_  James and Cisco would get along, they both had senses of humor that ran wild. And everyone liked Cisco. Cisco was the class clown that could make friends with- oh, with fucking world class criminals because literally, Snart, Mick, Lisa, and now James all _loved_ him; Hartley was, and had always been, the person that people pretend to be friends with so he'd pays the tab and rent the limo meanwhile they’re secretly resenting him because their families struggle to make rent and Hartley’s butler just bought a Rolls Royce.

James probably had more in common with anyone in this van besides Hartley. 

James’ arm dropped, formerly resting over the headrest, now he set it down at his side, though his shoulder was pressing weirdly against Hartley’s back at this angle. Fuck, it was cramped. 

“Roadrunners run only 20mph on average,” Cisco said, this news apparently _astounding_ to James who nodded and hung on to Cisco’s words like they weren’t _fucking talking about a cartoon_ and Hartley wanted to rip. Cisco’s. stupid. throat. 

“The coyote has, y'know, an endless supply of resources,” James said in reply, “you’d think with a motorbike and a net he’d be fine.”

“I know!” Cisco said, with a laugh in his voice. 

Shawna kept complaining to Mark about being hot, she wanted out of the car, Mark was trying to direct Shawna’s attention to baby names, “What about Joshua? Or Jack?" 

"Wow, Mark that’s… really white of you,” Shawna said, rolling her eyes. Hartley wished she’d turn around, he just wanted to look at her and… ugh, Hartley didn’t know. 

“I’m _Mexican,”_ Mark was arguing. 

Lisa and Mick were talking about some job the three main Rogues did a few years ago, even while Joe West glared into his paper map. Leonard Snart was talking to Henry Allen but the voices were low and Hartley couldn’t make it out. That new woman, Carol, looking much more normal in a pair of Army sweats, was leaning over the back of the front asking the man she was with, Hal Jordan of radio fame, how far Starling City was to Central. Iris and Eddie were silent, leaning up against each other, Eddie looking like he was close to falling asleep. And Caitlin was staring out the other window, except- huh. 

Hartley leaned forward a bit, barely able to catch it but- oh weird. Yeah. Caitlin kept glancing over to where Mick was. 

Hartley didn’t have the heart to even consider why- there was no way _he,_ of all people, could judge, when Hartley was the one falling asleep in a straight man’s arms and pretending- _ugh,_  Hartley wasn’t even sure what he was pretending. Just miserable, miserable, miserable. Antoinette was asleep on his lap and even she wasn’t making Hartley feel better. 

He blinked out the window, slow, bored. And sighed as several moments passed. It was hard to _stop_ thinking about James when the other man was cramped up against him and his voice practically in his ear. “The roadrunner probably comes from money,” James was saying, _“Hartley_ knows all about that.”

Hartley jolted up, Antoinette’s claws dug into his pants as she was woken up and scared without warning, and he turned sharply to look at James and Cisco. Oh god, fuck no, Hartley didn’t want _in_ on this conversation he just wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. 

“Right?” James was saying, giving Hartley a smile that would have made Hartley’s knees weak if he’d been standing- shit, everything would be easier if James wasn’t so goddamn attractive- “Maybe the coyote’s some distant cousin of yours.”

Cisco looked at Hartley, then was frowning- oh, well that was Hartley’s fault because Hartley was sort of glaring at Cisco. 

“Right?” James continued, obviously not reading the fact he was in between two men who were shooting daggers at each other with their eyes. “Got that Rathaway money. ACME’s probably just Mercury Labs- ha! Flash is the roadrunner.”

Hartley said, surprising himself with the anger in his voice, looking straight at Cisco, “I thought roadrunners only reach 20 mph.” Which was… great. _Good job, Hartley. Make it obvious that you were eavesdropping._

“What crawled up your ass?” Cisco said, meeting Hartley’s gaze and returning it. Next to him, Caitlin looked over, watching what was happening- her hand set on Cisco’s shoulder in support. 

“The fact I have to look forward to an entire day stuck in this van hearing you analytically recall children's cartoons?” Hartley said, feeling his lip curl up as he spoke. Antoinette was feeling around his lap for a new place to sleep. “Sounds like a _lovely_ way to spend my fucking time. I simply cannot wait to hear what you think of fucking _Scooby Doo_ next.”

Cisco rolled his eyes. “Damn. You’re such a buzzkill,” he mumbled under his breath, probably thinking Hartley couldn’t hear- not realizing Hartley could hear a pin drop at a heavy metal concert if he wanted to. 

Hartley _knew_ that. He was a fucking wet blanket with the personality, to continue with the theme, of Eeyore and everything sucked because anyone in their right mind would want to talk to Cisco over Hartley and Hartley was so jealous right now his _jealousy_ was jealous and it was all spilling over and he was _miserable._  

“Hartley,” James started to say. 

Caitlin was the one who spoke up, that matter-of-fact, calm voice she had, “Just try and ignore him. That’s just Hartley." 

_Fuck. Everything._ Hartley crossed his arms over his chest, glared at the window- could feel every miniscule shift of James’ against his side where the van had them pressed up together. _Fuck Caitlin. Fuck Cisco. Fuck fuck fuck fuck._

Hartley would do anything to get out of the van right now. 

"Hartley’s not bad,” James said, the words more of a question. He laughed, and then Hartley felt James’ hand on his heart, brushing over Hartley’s hair. 

“Seriously,” Cisco said, voice lowered but Hartley would have been able to hear even without the prototype cochlear implants, “Caitlin and I worked with him for years. When he gets mad like, don’t push it.”

The fingers threading through Hartley’s hair left. 

“You three worked together,” James asked, curious. 

Hartley wished he had headphones and music so he didn’t have to listen to the man he was crushing on so much his chest hurt just _thinking_ about his _smile_ (although the image of James’ sculpted abs and all around beautiful naked body was also in Hartley’s mind) talk with Cisco, who Hartley did. not. like. Who did not like Hartley. But who… was really good at making people- ugh Hartley didn’t even know how to describe it. 

Cisco was the likeable genius that people wanted to take out for coffee to get to know, Hartley was the person people hesitated to even send memos because they didn’t want to be stuck in a conversation with him. There. Miserable. Hartley stared at the back of Shawna’s head and desperately wished she’d turn around.

“STAR Labs,” Caitlin was saying, “we were all hired by Harrison Wells to work on the particle accelerator.”

Even just hearing Wells’ name made Hartley’s chest hurt and he wondered if this day would get any better because right now it was so low it was hadalpelagic. Hartley wished he could leave, or bury his head in the sand. 

“Particle accelerator? Huh. No offense but,” James said. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Cisco said good-naturedly, “‘you did a pretty bad job’, it was sabotaged actually. Soooo… not our fault.”

James laughed.

Hartley elbowed him in the stomach without thinking about it. 

James grabbed the place Hartley’d hit, frowning. “Ow.” He said, frowning at Hartley. 

“What is your _deal,_ Rathaway?” Cisco asked, exasperated, as Caitlin clicked her tongue and looked away. 

“My _deal-”_ Hartley began, ready to lash out, not entirely sure what he was going to say, probably insult Cisco’s intelligence for no reason and greasy hair just because Hartley had no other material.

James hand was on Hartley’s chest and pushed him back. “Calm down, Pipes,” James said.

Hartley sort of wanted to hit James again because the _last_ time James said that nickname his dick was in Hartley’s mouth, and that nickname made Hartley’s stomach drop and his head feel light and James was so pretty Hartley hated everything and finally understood Mick because Hartley wanted to set the world on fire just to make James stop. It was hard to think with James so close.

Cisco, still on James’ side which was frankly Hartley’s worst nightmare, his lover and Cisco being in agreement against him, said, annoyed, “We’re going to be stuck in this van all day; you can at least attempt to be nice.”

Hartley didn’t want to be nice. He wanted to be miserable. 

“Stop being mad,” James said. Hartley narrowed his eyes. James had a wicked look on his face, an unpredictable look, and said with a smirk on his face, “Stop being _jealous.”_

“Huh?” Cisco. Not for the tenth time, Hartley wished he could be in _any_ survival team besides the one Cisco was in. 

“You should grow your hair as long as him,” James said. And then he reached out. Touched Cisco’s hair. Cisco chuckled, waved James’ hand away. “Hey, Cisco,” James said, a positively evil look on his face, “there’s so little room, you should just sit on my lap.”

Cisco raised his eyebrow. “I feel that would be more uncomfortable-”

“If you all worked together,” James asked, “who was in charge? You, right?” He asked Cisco. “You seem so smart.”

“Uh, thanks?” Cisco asked. 

It was so annoying how angry Hartley could feel himself getting. The knots in his stomach were like boulders, his jealousy metastasizing more jealousy, head feeling full with a low buzz and Hartley was sure, if it had been possible, he could have killed both James and Cisco right then and there. 

“You’re obviously the fun one,” James said to Cisco, “and-”

Blood rushed into Hartley’s ears and he couldn’t hear the rest, which was a relief, because that _hurt._ That just dug down into Hartley’s chest and ripped it open and hurt. _Then fuck Cisco,_ Hartley thought, words on the tip of his tongue but he knew he’d never say them aloud, _he’s so goddamn 'fun'-_

“What?” Cisco said. 

James repeated himself, this time obnoxiously loud, “I _said,_ 'You’re the fun one and Hart’s the sexy one’.”

Hartley elbowed James, hard as he could, into the man’s stomach.

“Oh,” Cisco looked between Hartley and  James. Caitlin giggled behind him. 

“You agree?” James asked, talking a bit breathlessly after Hartley’d jabbed him. “I mean, guy who likes to talk cartoons-” he pointed to Cisco, then pointed to Hartley, about to say something. 

Hartley interrupted before James could. “Do not. Finish. That sentence,” Hartley warned. 

“You look so cute jealous, Pipes,” James said, sickly sweet. Cisco coughed into his hand and looked away. _“You’re_ so cute." 

James reached out, grabbed Hartley’s _face_  in both hands, and smushed Hartley’s cheeks. _"Adorable,”_ James said, pleased with himself. 

Hartley yanked James’ wrists away, clenching the hands tight and away from him, absolutely _livid_  but also that sinking feeling in his chest was rising- “You,” he said, but, angrily, couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

_“Topolino,”_ James said, pursing his lips as if waiting for a kiss. Hartley pressed his palms against James’ mouth, stopping him. James’ eyes were twinkling with mischief. 

Hartley waited a long moment before dropping his hand from James’ face. James immediately grabbed Hartley’s hand, kissed his palm. 

Hartley glared. _“James,”_ he warned. 

James kissed Hartley’s forearm, then the crook of his elbow, up to Hartley’s shoulder blade, then Hartley’s _neck_ and Hartley laughed, nervous, a bit elated, and holy shit James was literally doing this in front of everyone? _“Topolino,”_ James said again, he kissed Hartley’s cheek, the kissed so close to Hartley’s lips but not quite- and then James pulled away. 

Hartley’s face was burning. He had to fight to keep from smiling. 

Shawna turned around, just enough in her seat, gave Hartley a cocky grin and a thumbs up. 'My fault’, Shawna mouthed at Hartley. 

Hartley suddenly found the window to be the most interesting thing in the universe. He couldn’t look anywhere else, his head was spinning and his nerves were high in his chest, and James was so good looking but Hartley wanted to punch him for making Hartley _giggle_  in front of Cisco. 

“So roadrunner?” James said, nonchalant as if he didn’t just flirt and flaunt his… fuck… buddies (well, what were they? because this was _not_ what either had agreed to) relationship with Hartley in front of every single person they knew and… wow. 

“Uh… roadrunner,” Cisco said. Then thought for a moment, voice returning to normal, “Actually… in _Scooby Doo_ , these villains are always inventing genius tech, but instead of selling it they-”

James put his hand on Hartley’s leg, comfortable in the middle of Hartley’s thigh, and Hartley… just… wow.  " _Ti odio_ ,“ Hartley muttered. _I hate you._

James squeezed his thigh, and Hartley was absolutely a goner for a stupid Italian criminal raised in the circus and he knew, if his father was alive, the man would be mortified. And the thought was pleasant enough that Hartley couldn’t help but smile. 

Everything with James was... new and fun and Hartley could barely even bring himself to think about the crazed "let's summon the king of the zombies" plan, because James was so _close_ to him, there was a heartbeat pounding in his ears.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually updated in the AM on Tuesday instead of 11:59PM and I'm very pleased with myself for that.
> 
> Italian translations!!
> 
> [James] Sei molto sensibile quando ti tocco; "You are very sensitive to my touch"
> 
> [Hartley replies] Logicamente; "Obviously/Logically" / è passato troppo tempo; "it's been too long"
> 
> [Hartley] Baciami; "Kiss me"
> 
> [James] Succhiami il cazzo; "Suck my dick" (omfg James, good lord)
> 
> [James] Topolino; "little mouse/rat", also the name of a "Mickey Mouse" comic series in Italy (http://goodcomics.comicbookresources.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/topolino3.jpg)
> 
> [Hartley] Ti odio; "I hate you" (he obviously doesn't)


	39. A Night in Central City

The drive back to Central City was so quick Barry had whiplash.  The roads were entirely clear of ice and the few times there was anything blocking the path, Hal Jordan came to the rescue with that alien ring of his and they were on their way again within minutes.  It took half a day to get to Central City.

Barry ran behind the van and the attached U-Haul that contained Grodd. The zombie gorilla, obviously cramped, stayed silent.

This was a great opportunity to clear his head and _think,_ think about walking into his father’s tent that night, ducking down in between Henry and Caitlin, who was sleeping curled up into a ball against the wall, and how just… _instantaneous_ Barry had been able to sleep when he wrapped his arms around Len.  Time to think about what Shawna had said; Len needed to be democratic or this all would fall apart- and how Barry agreed, though it made his chest sink, and he knew he had to tell Len.

Instead, Barry didn’t think.  He let one foot step in front of the other, let the scenery pass him by, and it was relaxing.  Perhaps _this_ was more what he needed.

An hour into the van ride, there was a stop, the entire group inside got out complaining about air, and Shawna ended up riding on the back of the van, her feet up on the divider holding the U-Haul.  It was dangerous, but Barry was sure Shawna had already heard the whole speech from Mark, likely Hartley too, and knew he didn’t have to comment with his own opinion when Shawna had already made the choice.

It took a matter of hours to get back to Central City and Barry was almost in tears at the ease.  As the skyline slowly filled out over cornfields the late suburbs, Barry wished more than anything that winter would never, ever return. He could probably wax poetic now about how amazing summer was, as the feet of his uniform pounded, heel landing to push off, striking again and again as keeping up with a van moving at eighty mph felt like an easy, morning jog.

When they reached the bridge to Keystone, Barry ran up to the front of the car, where he could see Lisa driving and Joe in the passenger seat with a paper map, gave her a big wave and thumbs up, and then he ran ahead.

Barry wasn’t afraid of running into any zombies, he had the knife holstered to his side in case of any issue but his superspeed had been tested many time against the undead; things like raiders, villains like DeVoe or that surgeon or the woman from the homestead, they were far more worrisome threats.   _Age old zombie apocalypse proverb_ , Barry thought, though in reality he had never been into many zombie stories, _the living are more dangerous._

Barry, as he ran ahead and ducked into a commercial building with high windows, thought, _Glad I didn’t say that last line out loud, it sounded lame._  The shopping mall, six stories high with a plethora of non working materials, beckoned in front of him.  

* * *

Hauling the over his shoulder, a heavy duty backpack, Barry was only a few seconds behind the van when it stopped in front of the house.  Joe and Lisa were already out of the van, the others were getting organize and slowly getting out- that process was more difficult.

The houses looked perfectly intact and untouched, exactly how Barry and the others had left them, two Brownstones, defended with simple garden walls, sitting on opposite sides of a street.  The familiar RV, which had been Barry’s home for so long and which Barry couldn’t help but get a pang of nostalgia looking at, was set up in the middle of the road like a barricade.  Lisa parked the van on the other side of the street, and with the UHaul behind it she ended up turning the two cars into their own makeshift wall. It wouldn’t do anything to keep a regular human out, but Barry had yet to see any zombies jump or exhibit complicated problem solving skills, so it was a safe bet that this new barrier would do good.

“Home sweet home,” Lisa said, her gun in her hand and waving over at the Rogues’ house.  She grinned brightly when she saw Barry.  “You have no idea how much _whining,”_ she started to say.

Mick was getting out of the van first, so it was taking awhile.  Barry wasn’t sure what to do about Grodd, but before he could make a guess as to what they’d do with all their new companions, Joe was stomping between Barry and Lisa with an angry look on his face.  “Where’d you go?” Joe asked, eyes flashing.  

Lisa glared.  And then, without preamble or a word or warning, she pointed her gun in Joe’s face.  

Barry, startled, grabbed her wrist and forced her arm down.  “Lisa!” He yelled.

“I don’t like his tone,” Lisa said without apology.

“Don’t threaten to shoot anyone,” Barry said to her.  Lisa pulled her wrist out of Barry’s grasp with a huff.  

“I’m gunna’ check on Cisco,” she mumbled under her breath, walking away from Joe and Barry.  As she made her way to the van, grabbing one of the doors and holding it open, she stuck her gold gun back into its holster.

“Once a criminal,” Joe started to say.

Barry didn’t want to hear Joe’s opinions about the Rogues anymore.  It was clear what Joe thought, and that he might never come around to understanding that Lisa was like Barry’s family now, and it was painful to have to hear.  “I picked up some supplies from the mall,” Barry said, “I think after we figure out what to do with Grodd, we should all go to my house and have a night getting to know each other.”

Joe frowned.  He stuffed his hands into his pockets, and looked at Barry with the same expression he’d had when Barry was eleven and twelve and kept trying to run away from home to go to Iron Heights.  Pity and disappointment. “Which house?” Joe asked with a huff.

“Um,” Barry hunched over a bit, adjusting the backpack.  He ran his hand through his hair, the Flash hood resting at his neck.  “That one,” he said, pointing to the house where the Rogues slept.

“And Iris?”  Joe asked.

“Iris sleeps in the other one,” Barry said.  There was obviously only one other house, but Barry still felt the need to point.  He saw his father and Len getting out of the van at the same time, Henry made a joke and Len smiled.  

Len stretched his arm, glanced over at Barry, and shook his head.  Barry wasn’t sure why.  Hopefully Henry and Len had gotten to know each other? The idea of the two together alone made Barry nervous, even though that was why Barry’d insisted Len and Henry spend time without him.  Len hadn’t been happy about the idea, but there wasn’t any logical argument Len could come up with for why Barry couldn’t run alongside the van.

“Where do the Snarts sleep?” Joe asked bitterly.

Barry, startled, felt the blood draining from his face as guilt pooled in his stomach.  He knew he shouldn’t feel ashamed but there was something about the look on Joe’s face that made Barry want to crawl under a rock.  “You know where,” Barry said, looking at the van and not Joe, “Len and I share a room.”

Joe’s voice was rough, not disguising his distaste.  “How long have you two even been together?  You think it’s normal to just start living with someone like that when you barely even know the man?”

“I know him better than you do,” Barry said.

Joe frowned, stepping closer into Barry’s space. “You really think Snart won’t betray us all again just to get his way?” Joe asked, in his lecturing tone that Barry had heard too many times.  “That man is a ruthless killer, he only cares about himself and now he’s got you under his finger, doing _errands_ for him. Men like him don’t change; once things aren’t going Snart’s way he’s going to be right back doing that he was.”

For a moment, Barry actually imagined punching Joe.  The instant he thought it, he regretted it, but it was just so _frustrating._  There was never any way of getting Joe to change his mind when Joe was convinced his way was right, Iris and Barry had learned that too many times, and sometimes when Joe was protecting them that stubbornness was great, but too often Barry just wanted to pull his hair out and yell at the futile nature of it all.  Joe didn’t listen, especially now when Barry really needed him to.

Everyone was out of the van at this point; Hal Jordan and Carol were talking with Len and Caitlin, looking at the UHaul where Grodd was.  They’d obviously have to move Grodd out, the question was of course where they could put him where Grodd wouldn’t protest and everyone else could still feel safe.

“Are you _listening_ to me?” Joe said, moving into Barry’s line of sight.

“No,” Barry decided to say, which felt kinda good.

“I love you, Barry, I don’t want-”

“I know, I love you too, Joe,” Barry said, shaking his head.  “But it… you have to trust me, or find a way to accept this, because… I’m not going to be convinced otherwise.”

“If you listened to reason,” Joe protested.

 _“You’re_ the one not listening!” Barry said, louder than he intended.  He dropped his voice, seeing the startled look Cisco and Lisa sent his way.  “Joe, just… I’m not…”  Barry looked at Joe and felt his stomach sinking again.  “I’m going to see if Bivolo is still around,” Barry said.  He left in a flash, before Joe could get another word out.

* * *

 Barry couldn’t find Bivolo anywhere, and in the end that wasn’t surprising. The group had been gone so long, and they’d locked Bivolo up last time they’d been around, that Barry couldn’t blame the man for leaving and heading off somewhere else.

Barry’d gone to the mall, picked up some beers and cooking supplies, flour, sugar, baking powder, cinnamon, cans of fruit.  Somehow Mick managed to make something out of it and the other few ingredients in the house; beer bread that tasted sweet and tangy, and Caitlin and Iris combined near forgotten baking skills to make a kind of fruit and sugar mixture, which tasted actually fantastic and Barry had a huge portion that he ate in a few seconds.  

Hal Jordan, laughing, shared a couple beers initially with Lisa and Cisco.  Once he started telling a story about a test flight, apparently the pilot jacket Hal wore wasn’t _just_ a fashion accessory, and Carol started correcting minor details with a laugh, Henry and Iris joined in.  Barry hung by the kitchen mostly, because Mick was making an extra beer bread just for him and Barry didn’t want to leave the man alone to make it.  Len was leaning against the doorframe between the kitchen and the living room, lazily listening to Hal’s stories while drinking a beer.

Eddie was outside somewhere with Joe, and Iris and Barry had both shared nervous glances about it.  

Grodd was mostly happy it seemed, Hal Jordan and Carol Ferris had used their rings to pull some nearby cars into a circle beside the RV, and set a long tarp over the top.  They found some newspapers and a large collection of these fictional books about the biblical rapture in a nearby house, and Grodd seemed content to sit in his area and read them.

Barry really needed to ask Hal or Carol how those rings of theirs _worked_.

Caitlin had told Barry she was going to go sleep, but she was back about thirty minutes later, dressed in sweats and her hair pulled into a haphazard bun, and sat with the bread, eating slowly while reading a book by herself.  

James and Hartley were outside too, somewhere in the back of the house.  The kitchen windows were open to let in the cold air from outside, and Barry could hear the muffled sounds of James and Hartley’s voice though he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Mick was leaning over the kitchen counter, kneading the wet dough in his hands.  There was a cigarette in his mouth, the smell was annoying but it didn’t bother Barry as much as it used to.  It seemed everyone’s sense of smell had been considerably deadened lately.  The scent of rot dogged them everywhere to the point even the ashy scent of cigarette smoke was a welcome change.

“Nice ta be back in the house,” Mick said to himself.

Barry sat up. “Huh?” He said, “Oh, yeah. It is.”

He felt much more comfortable out of the Flash uniform, even with the brazen Adidas logo over the front of his shirt, the jeans he was wearing were Len’s, but they fit pretty well. When Barry went looking for jeans he realized he actually didn’t have any long pants besides running leggings and sweats.  He was wearing a comfortable pair of running sneakers that were practically slippers with the way they hugged his feet, and probably could have fallen asleep in those clothes.  

Barry nodded at Mick.  “This _is_ my favorite place.”

“Reminds me,” Mick said, “a the farm we went to.  Righ’ before we learned that lady was a crazy bitch.”

“Let’s not talk about that when we’re eating,” Len said, talking a bit loudly from the doorframe.  

It was silent for a bit longer, then Mick was putting the dough into the same pan he’d used for the first one.  Barry could still hear James and Hartley’s voices outside.  “Are Hartley and James a thing now?”  Barry asked.

“Yep,” Mick said gruffly.

Len nodded, and he stepped into the kitchen, leaning his elbows up on the kitchen table.  “Was obvious in the van,” he said.  His eyes met Barry’s, and Barry smiled at him.  Len smiled back, and Mick wrapped the bread up in tin foil.

“Are they just sleeping together,” Barry asked, “or are they actually together?”  He hoped for the latter, Hartley was his friend and Barry knew Hartley wanted someone to _be with_ , not just for sex… though Hartley seemed interested in that too.  

“James seems smitten,” Len told Barry.  Mick chuckled in agreement. “Honestly, I was sure Hartley’d be coming to you, Mick,” Len said.

“For real?”  Barry was surprised.  “Why Mick?”

“Everyone wants to be with someone, Red,” Len said with a shrug, “James is a clown, Mick’s not bad looking if you can stomach those burns.” Len smirked as Mick glared at him.

“I wouldn’ta been interested,” Mick said, putting the bread in the oven.  He set his gun over the top, closing the door to the oven just enough to stick the business end of his gun inside.  He turned it on, and then the immediate room filled with brighter, red flickering light.  

“It turned out good for Hartley?” Barry wondered, “James seems to really like him?”

“Contrary to _opinions,”_ Len said slowly, “I don’t dislike Rathaway. James is a questionable character, not sure what the man will do if we ever come across a group of single, female survivors.”

Barry grimaced at the thought.  “You think?”

“If Hartley ever feels the need to sonic James’ dick off, I think I’d be fine standing and watching,” Len decided.  “I’d probably leave that trickster bastard if he tried it.”

Barry was sure it wasn’t appropriate to smile, but he could feel it anyways.  “Hartley never meant to try to come between us, you know,” Barry said, looking at Len and feeling some mix of happiness and pride.

Len shrugged.  “He did,” Len said, “which is fine.  He was lonely and I can’t blame him.”

Mick left the gun pressed into the door of the oven, his hand, wearing an oven mitt, on the handle holding the door shut.  “I gotta ask you something,” Mick said.

Len pointed to himself, and then at Barry, looking at Mick with a question on his face.

“Both yall,” Mick said gruffly.  He pressed his back into the kitchen counter, keeping the one hand on the oven.  Barry could already start to smell the bread cooking, and his stomach, which had already eaten double the rations of anyone else, grumbled in anticipation- god he was hungry-

“It serious?”  Len asked Mick.

Mick just shrugged at that.  He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, tapped his hand against his knee and let the ashes fall on the kitchen floor. Len looked at that with annoyance, but Mick just shrugged it off.  “Been thinkin’ ‘bout something,” Mick said.

“What about?” Barry asked him.

“The doctor,” Mick said.

“My dad?” Barry asked.

Mick narrowed his eyes.   _“Caitlin,”_ he said.

Len held back a laugh.  “Alright, Doctor _Snow,”_ he said, “I can guess where this is going.”

“Shuddap,” Mick glared at Len.

 _Oh,_ Barry realized where this was going too.  He’d never actually… well he couldn’t exactly picture Mick and Caitlin together.  He’d never seen the two interact much, and the thought was a little ‘out there’, as weird as… well actually, it wasn’t that far reaching of an idea.  Mick Rory and Caitlin was just as strange an idea as _Lisa and Cisco_ , and for that matter, probably was the same as how everyone else pictured Barry and Len.

 _Weird,_ Barry realized, startled.   _Both_ his best friends with the Rogues? Just like him?  That was almost a perfect thought, except… “She’s married,” Barry remembered.

Mick shrugged, apparently not worried. Len spoke up first, “Her husband isn’t around, is he?”

Barry ran his hand along his forehead.  “But she’s still married,” he said again.

“It hasn’t really been an issue with any women before,” Mick said dismissively.

“Caitlin is married, she still wears her ring, she’s still waiting for Ronnie to come back,” Barry elaborated, “marriage is serious.”

“It’s just some words and jewelry people give each other while standing in an old building,” Mick said with a shrug, “don’t mean anything.  Ain’t like we’ve seen this husband coming around anytime since we found your friends over here.  He’s probably dead.”

“But she doesn’t know if he is or not.  And last time she didn’t know, Ronnie came back alive,” Barry said.

“You seem to be her type,” Len told Mick.  “Snow’s other man also lit himself on fire for fun.”

“Hilarious,” Mick grumbled.

“I mean, Caitlin is… she’s very…” _different from you,_ was what Barry was thinking, but he didn’t want to say it out loud.

“If you and _Lenny_ can get it on,” Mick defended with a frown, “why can’t I with Caitlin?”

“Very good point,” Len said with a nod.  

“You have to know if she’ll be open to you,” Barry said, finding his resolve against the situation weakening a bit.  Neither Mick or Len seemed worried about Caitlin being married, which bothered Barry.  “Has she… sent any signals?”

“Yep,” Mick said.  He didn’t elaborate.

“No harm in asking,” Len said.  

“Think so?”  Mick asked.

The bread was starting to smell _really_ good.  Barry closed his eyes for a moment just to concentrate on the smell of it. Hearty, with the sweet scent of beer and the stronger taste of the oats Mick had thrown in the flour to make it stick less- god it smelled good.  Even though thought of the poorly salvaged, frozen butter they’d used to help make it didn’t make it bad.  Barry never wanted to leave this house, with the scent of _freshly baked bread._ “When’s the food done?”  Barry wondered aloud, still enraptured by the smell.

Mick laughed so loudly Barry was actually afraid something bad had happened.  He stared at Len, worried, but Len was chuckling, and then Barry realized they were both laughing at him.  “What?” Barry asked.

“That the face he makes?” Mick asked Len, shoulders shaking with laughter.

Len let out a short bark of laughter, his stump hand held against his chest to contain himself.  “Shit, Mick I can’t answer that.”

“What?” Barry looked between the two of them, confused, “what am I missing?”

 _“Nothing,”_ Len grinned but he side eyed Mick in warning, “nothing.”  Barry frowned at that, mentally replacing what had happened until- _oh,_ Barry’d made a face and Mick had asked if… and Len had laughed at that, which was a bit annoying but Barry also kind of wanted to laugh at it.

“Give us fifteen minutes, buddy,” Mick said to Barry, “should be done.”

“That’s what Len said,” Barry said, watching Len to see his reaction.

Mick instantly burst into some weird, hiccupy laughter.  He bent over, one hand still holding the oven up, practically wheezing as his shoulders shook.  Len didn’t say anything at all, he was watching Barry with a fierce expression, but the barest corners of Len’s mouth were curled into a smile.  

“That so?” Len asked, looking at Barry like a predator.  He stepped around the kitchen table, his hand tracing along the edges of the wood.  Walking past the table toward Barry, Len’s hand dropped from the table to his belt, and by the time Len was in front of Barry, the entire room felt hot.  “That a challenge?” Len asked, his boot knocking against the running shoes on Barry’s feet.  “Want to see how long I can go?”

Barry grinned.  “Well, _yeah,”_ he encouraged.  

He closed the rest space off between them, reaching up to grab Len’s jacket and pull their chests together.  Barry loved this, loved the feeling of Len against him, Len’s breath on his face, the closeness of them, the intimacy, how Len’s eyes looked from only an inch away.

Len kissed him, tasted bitter like the beer he’d drunk and sweet like the fruit and sugar.  He was _warm,_ though Len probably wouldn’t want to hear it, and the thought made Barry chuckle.  Len pulled away for just a moment at that, mumbled something that Barry was probably supposed to hear, and then his mouth was on Barry’s again, kissing his lip by his nose. Barry reached up, hand wrapping around the back of Len’s neck.

Len pulled away, pressed his forehead against Barry’s.  “Don’t tease,” he said softly, just to Barry.  The grin on Len’s face was infectious.  “You’re not budging from here ‘til you get more to eat.”

“Well,” Barry agreed, and then Len kissed him again.  

Barry slid his hand down the back of Len's head, to his neck. His tongue barely touched Len's lips when Len pulled away again, but Len's nose pressed into his, Len's mouth wide in a smile, and it was fine.  

"I," Barry said, surprised how low his voice was. He kept his voice quiet enough that only Len could hear. "I'm glad you're getting along with my dad."

Len hummed, pressed his mouth against Barry's in a chaste kiss, and then pushed their foreheads together again. His eyes looked straight into Barry's. "I can be nice," he said softly.

"Really?" Barry grinned.

Len's hand dropped down Barry's back, searching for the end of Barry's shirt, and then his hand slipped under, just enough to send a shiver down Barry's back at the touch of those cold fingers. Len's arm rested along Barry's back, pulling him tight with his elbow. Barry hooked one of his arms around Len's waist and kept his other hand on Len's neck.

He could still hear everything around them, the way Hal laughed when Carol corrected his story, the door in the kitchen opening and James and Hartley coming through, Mick sighing behind them- but all the other sounds were unimportant, Barry heard them but didn't bother registering anything else. His eyes and attention took in Len, and nothing else; the way Len was looking at him, Barry felt like this feeling he was having had to be mutual.

Len kissed his nose, which made Barry wrinkle his nose at the feeling. He frowned, and then kissed Len's mouth faster than Len could blink- Len chuckled, Barry smiled so bright his mouth started to hurt.

They stayed that way, Barry feeling like nothing in the world could ever get him to leave Len's arms, until Mick pulled the bread out of the oven and Barry's stomach growled.

Barry cut the bread into three pieces, to make it easier to hold, but it ended up being too hot for him to be able to hold for awhile. Len moved over to the couch, talking to Caitlin where she was sitting and reading, and Barry went to stand next to him, wondering if what Len and Caitlin were talking about was related to Mick. By the time Barry was over there though, Len was just sitting down on the couch next to her.

Barry listened to Hal for awhile, and couldn't help laughing because Hal was fun, infectiously so, and the story about Hal nearly crashing his plane because he thought Carol was sexting him, not warning about a rainstorm coming, was kind of hilarious.

The night was so... perfect, Barry could close his eyes and never doubt there was a city full of people around them. That outside the walls of this house was a city with bustling life, people making a living, families spending time together, dogs being walked on the streets, food cooking in restaurants, televisions playing the latest fad show, newspapers being written, coffee poured, people falling in love, falling out of love, making deliveries, playing concerts, learning skills, art being made, new things being discovered every day, subways running from one place to the next, peoples listening to music and walking the streets wrapped up in their own thoughts, others traveling together laughing at inside jokes- a city full of life, full of humanity.

It wasn't. It didn't take long for Barry to see that things weren't right. All he had to do was open his eyes... Caitlin had lost an unhealthy amount of weight and there were dark circles under her eyes, his own father was sitting in front of him, everyone looked like they were one shitty moment in time away from giving up, Barry's hands still shook sometimes from the memory of the crack of the weapon in his hand as it connected with the General, Mick was unshaven, wild, somehow more put together, Lisa's hair wild, barely held back, Iris' hair was curly, her hand on her stomach as she laughed, looking like her mind was far away though she reacted to the turns in Hal's stories, Cisco didn't make as many jokes, there was a sad look on his face that seemed nearly permanent and it hurt to see, and Len's eyes brightened when Barry looked at him, a man who'd wanted Barry dead at one point, softened and nodded at Barry, but the cost for Len was obvious. The bandage around Len's wrist was white and fresh, there was still that now familiar sweat on Len's face, from pain, a grimace on Len's face was his resting face now, a man who'd been caught up in day to day survival before the apocalypse and now that same struggle was clearly present, now that struggle had undead faces to blame. Barry wondered how different he looked to everyone else.

Barry ate the bread fast, knowing the quicker he could fill his stomach he could feel full for a time, if only a few seconds. Running might not have been the best plan, but god the run had felt good. Still, the sight of empty buildings, empty malls, Barry felt like Marius.

Barry hadn't been in Central when the apocalypse happened. The Flash had left his city, and now the city was dead. Barry didn't know the words to describe how he felt that, resignation? Sadness? Acceptance and guilt, poured into one? Nostalgia, perhaps.

He was still musing, still caught in these thoughts, when James knocked into his back on the way to the fridge. Barry, who'd just finished the Gatorade in his hand, frowned at James.

James grabbed a beer and shut the door quickly to keep the fridge cold (Len's cold gun had frozen plenty bottles of water they'd stuck into the fridge to keep the contents cool). "Flash," James said. He popped open the beer bottle and saluted with his hand. "Mr. Miracle. Hm."

Barry raised an eyebrow. James wasn't his favorite person, but Barry wasn't going to send away a distraction from his current, depressing train of thoughts. Barry could barely see Hartley, he was standing over by the window next to Shawna and the two were talking about something with a serious look on their faces. Len was talking to Caitlin again. His father had moved away from Hal Jordan and was talking to Lisa and Cisco. So why not talk to James, Barry decided with a shrug. "Are you from Central City?" Barry asked.

James looked surprised at the small talk. "Me? Nah," he said. He leaned over the kitchen table, elbows resting on the wood. "I'm not from anywhere but the circus."

"The _literal_ circus?" Barry asked.

James snorted. "No. A fake circus. A flea circus 'cause I'm actually a flea with shapeshifting powers. Don't tell Pipes."

Barry sighed, that was a stupid question so he deserved that answer. "You and Hartley are a real thing then?"

James tensed. "Whaddaya mean 'real'?" He frowned.

"Well, Hartley seems to like you," Barry started to say.

James interrupted, bitterly, "I'm the on'y available dick in the sea, ain't I?"

 _Someone was in a weird mood_. "Did Hartley... say that?" Barry asked.

"You wonderin' if that's still available?" James asked.

Barry blinked. "No- what? N, no," Barry explained, "he, he's just my _friend-"_

James turned, arm resting on the table, so he could face Barry. There was a hard look on his face. "You try and go for Hart," James said, free hand tensing into a fist at his side, "you better be prepared for me, gottit?"

Barry had to hold back a grin. "I'm... I'm good," Barry promised, waving his hand in a gesture of peace, "I have Len. I'm good. Hartley's _just_ a friend."

James looked at Barry's face for a long moment before speaking again. "I know Hartley wanted you first," James said.

Barry swallowed. "I... Yeah, I mean," he had no idea what to say to fix that, "but I didn't... I just want Hartley to be my friend."

James shook his head in disbelief. "You're a fucking idiot," James said.

Barry grimaced and shrugged. "Okay," he said. A moment passed where neither said anything. "So Hartley and you are-" Barry asked.

"Yeah," James said. "I guess. Dunno. Don't ask it's..." James looked at Hartley, who was still wrapped up talking to Shawna. "I am," he said, "for me it's... y'know."

"That's good," Barry said, even though he had no idea what James was saying.

James took another drink of his beer, and Barry went to the pantry, found another Gatorade, and opened it. He went back, standing by the kitchen next to James. Barry was just wondering where Mick was when James interrupted his thoughts with, "Can I have some condoms?"

Barry choked on his drink. Sputtering, eyes watering, he managed to get a handle on himself. "Wh- what-"

"Hartley said we need that," James told Barry, "and lube. He said you and Snart would have it."

Barry, coughing, just nodded.  

James, stepping closer, mumbled under his breath to Barry, "Can we... could I ask you some questions?"

"About..." _Sex? About sex?_ Since when was Barry _ever_ the person anyone asked for sex advice from? He was the nerdy, socially awkward person who couldn't get a date not the person people asked for _sex advice from_.  James was a muscular, golden haired Italian who looked like a poster child for Olympic games... what the hell was the world coming to?

"I need this to be good for Hartley," James urged. He glanced over at Hartley and Shawna again, and then dropped his voice even more, "C'mon. Dontcha think you owe him one?"

James had Barry pretty much trapped at that, Barry realized with a sigh. "Okay, uh... let's go up to my room," Barry said.

* * *

Barry collapsed on the bed, elbows over his eyes, and sighed.

Len shut the door behind him as he walked into their room. "It looks the same," Len said, and Barry grunted in reply. He could hear Len kicking off his boots. Moments later, there was the familiar creek of the bathroom door opening. "Did James ask you for sex advice?" Len asked. Barry grunted again.

"Did that to me two days ago," Len said, continuing, "I told him to ask Hartley."

Barry's cheeks burned. "Oh," he said, remembering the long, ridiculously embarrassing conversation he'd just had. James had just been so... intensely interested in everything while Barry just stammered and stumbled through an explanation.

"You didn't tell him too much about me?" Len asked, sounding amused.

"Don't even," Barry muttered. He grabbed a pillow and flung it over his face.

"Good things," Len said, sounding closer until Barry could feel the mattress giving under Len's weight, "right, Red?"

Barry let himself relax, Len pulled the pillow away and Barry moved closer until Len was pressed up against his side. "Yeah," Barry nodded, "told him your dick is fourteen inches long and your mouth is made of Oreos."

"Someone's hungry," Len mumbled, head dropping onto Barry's shoulder.

Barry shifted his weight, leaned into Len's touch, felt Len against him and his body responding to that.  "So uh... can we... you and I? Have sex?" Barry asked.

Len shifted. "Dunno," he said.

"Is that..." Barry wasn't sure what to make of that.

Len shifted his weight so his right could reach up to brush his fingers through Barry's hair. "Was in a car all day," Len mumbled, "sore."

"Oh," Barry said. He was disappointed but... not, obviously he understood just, he'd sort of assumed...

"I know," Len said, mumbling into Barry's chest, "you're young and made of lightning and I'm old and cold and not so handy-"

"Dear god."

"-so 'f you wanna get it off by yourself, you," Len continued.

"Just forget I brought it up," Barry said. He shifted, moved up the bed to fit more comfortably, and found the blanket.

"Barry," Len said. He sat up, seemingly off balance, and looked at Barry with a frown. "If you really want to, I am sure I can find the energy."

"You're tired." Barry sighed. Len nodded, but didn't seem to care. "Now isn't a good time then."

"Morning?" Len asked.

That sounded like a great plan.  "Okay, ye- yes. In the morning," Barry said.

"I'll rock your world in the morning then." Len closed his eyes and his face dropped unceremoniously onto the mattress. "Blow out the candle?" He mumbled, voice muffled by the bed.

Barry flashed over the candle, blew it out, and was back in the bed in less than a second. A few moments later, Len was fast asleep against him.

Holding off was a good call because in a few moments Barry started to hear the sound of Hartley's voice making... wordless... _noises._ The mood would have been ruined anyways.

Barry pushed the pillow against his ears and fell asleep to the sound of Len breathing.

* * *

Barry dreamt that Central City was in front of him, the city moved over and below him; people's voices swam over his ears in a nonsensical undulating wave of unrecognizable content. He dreamt he was on the High Line, the bodies yet to be buried were standing, flesh and bone beings, skeletal faces curled up in a smile as they sat up, passed joints to each other, sang, and drank.

Barry rested in the center of this, the floor beneath him was glass and he was dressed in work clothes from the CCPD, gloves on his hand as if the High Line was a crime he was investigating. Two headless children made of bone danced past, Barry laughed at them and they giggled back.

Len's arms appeared around him, Len's two hands bitterly cold. Len crawled up between Barry's legs, parka over his shoulders, gun at his hip, dark clothes hanging off of a body that had yet to be starved in the apocalypse. Len whispered words to him that left Barry whimpering.  Barry turned his head and Len kissed his neck.

Central City bustled beneath him, directly below himself, through the glass floor, Barry could see his friends and family sitting together in his home, gathered around his table, laughing as his father, dressed in orange, handed a baseball to Joe. Joe looked up at Barry and Barry heard a gunshot.

The gunshot was loud, and _real,_ Barry jumped up from his dream.

Energy pulsated at his hands, he surged forward, the only light came in from the blue curtains, dark and grainy. The room looked green. Barry reeled, unsure if the gunshot was in reality or his dream until he heard another.

The shots were loud, unmistakably a gun, and Barry jumped. "Dad!" He yelled.

The green light twisted, until there was a skull formed of flickering, sickly green substance suspended in the air, and Barry heard a voice yelling from the shapeless form- Nimbus.

Nimbus was here, someone was shooting, they were under attack and Barry's lungs were burning.


	40. The Best-Laid Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you thank you, to RedHead here on Ao3 for helping me edit this (follow her on tumblr at coldtomyflash just do it)

Barry yelled, heard movement behind him, and he ran headlong into the concentration of the gas. Quickly he remembered not to breathe, and he turned sharp, pivoting on the ball of his feet, twisting into each foot into the other.  

He knew if he moved fast enough Nimbus would give up- why- how did he find them- _who had been shot-_ Barry, frustrated, spun one hand-

The green moved, the _tingling_ feeling like the world's most unstable itch, slid off his skin in a sick motion. Barry backed up, stopping spinning, and in his haste he stumbled backward. The back of his knees hit the bed right as a _terrible_ burst of cold skirted past Barry's shoulder and ear. Barry shivered so hard his body hurt, chin clenching.

The green form was almost solid in front of them, but shaken and empty where Len's cold gun had hit. The eyes that looked at Barry almost belonged to a face, dark and shapeless but furious. _"Flash,"_ growled a voice out of the gas.

Who'd been shot? Barry opened his mouth but his lungs _burned-_ how long had Nimbus- Barry dropped to his feet, grabbing his throat, scratching at the collar of his shirt.

"MARK, get _here!_ Now!" Len yelled, the words a shock to Barry's ear.

Barry forced himself to his feet, wheezing, Nimbus was still inside of his lungs. Barry raced forward into the shapeless form of Kyle Nimbus with one hand over his mouth, he twisted his body again. Nimbus moved fast, toward the corner of the room.

There was a thunderclap, loud enough to shake the walls. Nimbus looked toward the roof, and then just as suddenly as he'd arrived, the gas moved so quickly even Barry's eyes could hardly catch it.

Barry's lungs felt relieved- Nimbus, gone, he felt like he could breathe but his throat scratched, injured so tender he was worried his throat was bleeding. Len's arm was around him. Len held Barry up, Barry's body was shaking and he hadn't known it was.

"We have to go, Barry, we have to go," Len said, repeating and repeating- Barry's heart beat low in his stomach. Fear. He was just afraid. Barry could handle this.

Barry flashed forward, half a second, adrenaline coaxing his speed. His Flash uniform was on in a moment, and then without a second thought Barry grabbed Len's clothes. It was easy to speed them on him, and Barry was at the door by the time Len finished blinking. "That-" Len said.

"I heard a gunshot," Barry told him, his voice somehow confident, more assured than Barry felt.

"I did too," Len said. "Nimbus-"

"Mark or I need to make a tornado. Split him up. Or shock his system."

"Gas reacts to heat and cold-"

"I know. Good. There has to-" Barry said, opening the door, using his speed to make sure no one was behind it.

"Be a second person. Or more."

Barry stepped into the hallway, dropped his hand to the knife at his thigh by habit but quickly clenched his hand into a fist instead. "How did they find us," Barry whispered. He opened the next door slowly, Lisa's room.

"Bivolo," Len answered.

“How would you know?” Barry asked.  Len raised his gun, only to have his gun facing yet another- Lisa stood behind the door, wearing a pair of dark sunglasses over her eyes.  

“Lenny?” Lisa asked.

“It’s me,” Len said, and he turned, his back to the hallway wall, facing the other doors.  Down the hall was Hartley’s room, and then Shawna and Mark’s; the door to Shawna and Mark’s room was wide open and beyond that blackness. Len was focused on that.

Lisa shoved open the door, and then Barry saw Cisco beside her. He was holding Lisa’s free hand, and Cisco had his tablet in his other hand, but his eyes were blindfolded shut and Cisco’s hair was more wild than Lisa’s, flung about his face in tangled directions.  

Cisco’s hand with the tablet reached out, waved in front of Barry’s face until Barry pulled it away.  Cisco sighed with relief at that touch.  His voice was a deep, low whisper, “Lisa and I were out, we saw Bivolo talking with Grodd.”

Len frowned, and then pointed back into Lisa’s room.  Neither Lisa or Cisco seemed to be able to see- they _really_ didn’t need those, did they?  Was Barry going to have to blindfold himself? Because Len had his goggles but Barry’s mask had eyeholes- Len nudged Barry’s arm, and then with a final look around the top floor, Barry and the others stepped into Lisa’s room and shut the door behind them.

Nimbus was still out there, another peal of thunder clapped down so hard the windows shook, and _someone_ had been shot, but they needed to know what Cisco and Lisa knew.  Planning, casing a situation, it was always Barry’s weak point but that was what everyone always insisted he did-

This was _not_ the plan he’d had for this morning.

Lisa pulled the glasses off her face, though Cisco kept his blindfold  on.  “Bivolo walk’d straight past us, ‘Co and I woke up because Grodd’s voice… we could hear it,” Lisa explained.

“Why were you outside?” Len asked.

Cisco swallowed nervously.  “We slept in the R.V.”

“Why?” Len asked.

Lisa shrugged.  “Hartley was makin' _a lot_ of noise last night, fucking loudmouth.  I was drunk… we _were just sleeping_ out there.  It was _fine-_ Len, Lenny, we have Hal and Carol, there’s plenty of people keeping watch.”

“But Grodd,” Len started to say.

This train of thought was a distraction, someone was shot and Barry needed to know exactly what he was up against.  “Did you see anyone with Bivolo?” He interrupted.

“No,” Lisa said, “we didn’t _see_ anything. We _heard_ Grodd’s side of the conversation.”

“But it sounded like there were more,” Cisco pointed out.  “That’s why we came back in here.  We were getting my tablet and Lisa’s gun-”

Len’s eyes flashed.  “You went outside the house _without_ your _gun,”_ he snapped at Lisa.

“I was _fine,”_ Lisa defended, “I’m still fi- _ine_ , Lenny.”

“You’re still _drunk,”_ Len said.

Lisa snorted.  “You fucking know I can still shoot a fucking gun if I’m fucking drunk , you fucking bastard asshole.”

Len sighed and grabbed his chin, thinking.  He looked at Barry.  

“Kyle Nimbus was here,” Barry said.

Cisco whistled under his breath, but Lisa screwed up her nose and frowned. “Who?”

“You’ve met him,” Len told her.

“What the fuck,” Lisa whispered to herself in astonishment .

Lisa was… crap.  Barry knew, seeing her like that, that Lisa was not going to be reliable.  Which was bad, bad, _bad_ because there were two angry metahumans on the loose somewhere and Mark might be off with Nimbus- Barry didn’t _know-_ fuck… “Fuck this,” Barry said aloud. “The three of you check everything out upstairs, stay safe-”

“No,” Len said harshly.  He reached out for Barry’s arm, but Barry stepped backward.

“I have to find out what’s going on,” Barry said, “I can’t just sit around in the dark.  You take care of Lisa.”

“Barry,” Len warned.

“I’ll be right back,” Barry promised.  Barry called the lightning, rushed forward, kissed Len quickly on the corner of his mouth and then Barry rushed out.  He knew Len would listen- or maybe he didn’t, maybe the only thing Barry could control at the moment was himself.  But he was the _Flash,_ the uniform was on and everything , and it was time to run.

He skidded through the hallway, threw open Hartley’s door and raced inside.  The window gave Barry enough light to see that the room was empty, neither Hartley or James were inside.  He left, his brain processing the messy room, the collapsed bookshelf in the corner as if someone had been thrown into it, the sheets lying across the room like they’d been torn off and the bloodstain on the floor- but Barry didn’t dwell on it.  Two more people he needed to find.

It took femtoseconds to reach Shawna and Mark’s room, Barry paused in there, still buzzing and alive from the lightning, his pause half a second long.  One of the walls had been completely blown out, as if a tree crashed into the room or a tornado blew the window and a good portion of wall out with it. Barry slowed down enough to call out, “Shawna!”

Her reply was almost immediate.  Shawna raised a hand, from behind the overturned bed.  She jumped to the middle of the room, opened her mouth to speak, but there wasn’t time.  Barry swooped her up in his arms.  She was in the room besides Cisco in moments, and Barry was out again before anyone could register his presence.  

Barry raced back through Mark and Shawna’s room, he jumped through the empty space in the wall, his foot contacted with the brick side of the wall for only two steps before the heels of his feet touched grass.

It was the middle of the night, the stars were bright and abundant like always, shining almost loudly and creating a grey light illuminating off the wet grass.  The moon was just a sliver in the sky, balsamic, the end pointed and curved like the end of the knife Barry carried at his side. He could hear noises, mumbled, slowed down too much as he made his way toward a figure covered in a green cloud.

Mark stood in the middle of the yard, hands raised and air swirling about him, tornados that stretched from his palm and surrounded him.  Mark’s ragged hair and beard whipped about his face, and as Barry moved closer he could see Mark’s arms violently shaking from the effort.  Nimbus wasn’t getting near, but Mark was obviously not doing well.

Nimbus was moving back, the cloud gaining a more solid shape, and Barry took a breath.  He knew what to do- keep Nimbus from regrouping by stopping him from gaining solid form until all his power was drained.  

Barry raced forward, the lightning jolted him into his path like he was being yanked forward, and in an instant he ducked his head down and collided his shoulder threw the partially formed grainy figure of Kyle Nimbus.  Barry ran far enough he could breathe, his skin itched, and he turned back around, facing the battle, ready to race back in again when he stopped.

The RV had been thrown onto its side, the other car knocked over like it had been thrown, and the tarp had fallen.  It was obvious Grodd was out, but why, and where, Barry would have heard him in his house so- the other hous-

Barry hardly spared a thought for Nimbus or Mark as he ran ahead. His heart pounded, and even between super speed steps upon the ground his mind had time to race with worry.  One step, _Iris was in there, Iris who was strong but so weary of struggling and fighting, who wanted a safe place and a family_ \- the next step, _Henry was there, his father, Barry had just reunited with his father after fourteen years, if_ – next step, and the thoughts were painfully fast they burned through his mind, _if he lost Henry, if Iris lost Eddie, if he lost Iris, if he and Iris lost Joe…._

A blast of air hit his side which sent Barry spinning, falling down onto his side and hip.  Barry pulled himself up by his elbows, and stared, because that had been _Mark,_ why would Mark attack him?

Mark’s eyes were wild in his head, afraid.  His hands shook so violently they looked ready to shatter.  The green cloud ominously grew closer, Kyle Nimbus was standing, visible, behind them, reformed in the few seconds Barry had been distracted.   _“Shawna,”_ Mark yelled.

The sound could barely be heard among the roar… the sound of gunshots, a scream, the crackle of something burning- there were noises all around, Grodd _roared_ in animalistic fury and Barry felt the crushing weight of fear in his stomach. _Why?_ Barry wanted to scream the word loud, why would anyone-

 _“Shawna!”_ Mark yelled at Barry again.

“She’s- she’s fine,” Barry said, which was a lie.  He had no idea- had Shawna been hurt? Barry hadn’t checked at all before he’d moved her.  Damn that… Barry should have _checked,_ his father was a doctor, Shawna could have been injured and he could have made it worse.

Barry had to find her- and also-

Instantly Barry was struck with the fact there was no possible way he was going to manage this alone. He needed to find stronger people, he needed Len.  That Hal guy and Carol.  

He needed an entire league  of superheroes behind him because Grodd was here and Bivolo and Nimbus apparently, somehow those three had managed to come together and Barry had no idea how or why, who could convince these people to attack _them._  

Mark had turned, found Nimbus again, and Barry left him there.  If he could find one of the others, he could direct them to Mark to help, but right now Barry needed to find someone he could _reason_ with and that was not going to be a man who turned into a poison cloud.

Eddie was standing between the two houses, holding a gun, hand over his eyes.  Bivolo was there, mouth open and spitting with words but Barry moved to fast to see.  He changed his direction some, moving fast in a circle so he could knock Bivolo down to the floor.  

Then Barry was moving.  But not moving, his legs were still, there was an arm on his neck-

Barry yelled, though he was moving at lightning speed, too fast for the words to make a sound.  Someone was holding him and moving; their speed yanked on Barry's.  Barry felt himself moving across the yard, and then higher up, walking and running up a wall and again onto level ground.  He grabbed the arm constricting his breathing and kicked hard on instinct.

The body beside him shifted, and him and the other person crashed down hard.

Barry’s palms and knees connected with harsh, clay roofing for a solitary moment, then the roof  he was standing on collapsed.  One instant Barry saw the stars, the next he was falling into an attic.  

He landed roughly on his arm, felt something pop but nothing hurt, and dirt flew up into his nose.  Barry sneezed- and _that_ was when his shoulder burned.  It felt like a buzzing pain, one that extended into the muscles, concentrated like a stab and poison that extended into his stomach.  Barry heaved upward, instantly nauseous.

A gentle hand pushed him back, into a sitting position.  Then that same hand grabbed him by the uninjured shoulder roughly and dragged him against the wall.  

Barry’s eyes were wet with pain, he blinked rapidly and found himself staring up into callous eyes.  The Reverse Flash wasn’t wearing that coat or boots anymore.  

Harrison Wells, _Eobard,_ pulled back his cowl and gave Barry a genuine smile that seemed heartless.  “It’s nice to see you again,” he said .  

Barry lunged forward, and then in a flash Eobard’s fist collided with his injured shoulder .  The result was agonizing, and Barry fell down on the ground with a shout of pain.  He tried to stand, but Eobard stood first, and there was a boot grinding down into Barry’s injured shoulder as the malignant speedster stood over him.  

“Barry,” Eobard said with the air of explaining things to a child, “if you don’t calm down a bit I’m going to have to hurt you.”

Barry yelled wordlessly, furious.  He grabbed Eobard’s ankle, his hand vibrating as if to sting, but Eobard pushed his boot deeper into Barry’s shoulder with a sadistic nonchalance.   “It’s time for you to listen to reason,” Eobard said calmly, “or I _will_ break your legs and tear off the head of one of your friends.”

Barry, still gripping Eobard’s ankle, froze and stared up at the other man. His stomach _hurt_ with how angry he was, at just the _sight_ of the Reverse Flash, and someone was _shot-_ “Who was shot?” Barry asked, the words were fast, they came out of his mouth in a blur that would have been impossible for an ordinary person to hear.

“No one who matters,” Eobard replied.

 _“Everyone_ matters,” Barry snapped.  He could feel his head still spinning, but he was recovered from the onslaught, no longer overwhelmed.   _Now_ Barry knew what was happening.  His shoulder was out of place, Eobard’s foot holding him down, Barry knew any more movement would cause him considerable pain and… well, he had to stop the attack.  Barry didn’t know how many more people Eobard had with him, or what had happened to his people, but they were all vulnerable.  He’d wanted to talk to the person in charge, and… here he was, yellow and sadistic, but reasonable .

“I’d really hoped we’d be spared the unpleasantness,” Eobard said, words like sandpaper, “you know I haven’t taken that much joy in hurting you as of late.  Turns out one of my associates, you wouldn’t know her as of yet, she goes by Huntress-”

“I know her,” Barry said angrily.

Eobard nodded, a casual shrug.  “Her task was to get those annoying guns from the Rogues while Nimbus subdued you, turns out that aggravating hot beef-head is a light sleeper,” Eobard said with a curl of disgust on his face, “those Rogues are junkyard dogs.  They’re mongrels but rather dangerous when provoked, still.  I’m always  surprised by their innate ability to be more trouble than they are.”

“Mick,” Barry said.   _Mick was shot._  “Is he alive?”

Eobard shrugged. “If the Huntress has a brain between her shoulders, he is,” he said casually.  “Now, Barry, I can be very formidable or very friendly, so why don’t we mutually agree to talk out our differences so you can get off the floor?”

“Fuck off,” Barry growled.

Eobard’s eyes narrowed.  “The Rogues are a bad influence on you ,” he said.

Barry searched through his peripheral vision, looking for anything he could grab.  He was sure he hadn’t gone far, he could still hear thunderclaps from outside.  The dust everywhere was making it a bit hard to breathe, or maybe that was the lingering effect from what Nimbus had done.  There was a set of golf clubs but on the far side of the room.  All around Barry were paintings and garbage bags full of mothy clothes.  He had landed squarely in the center of the floor, there was nothing within reach of his free arm and Eobard was still holding him down.

“Speaking of,” Eobard said, with baleful  concern, “I have been letting you go off and do your own thing, keeping an eye on you, of course, but… you’ve made some very disturbing choices as of late.”

Barry glared at him.  “You’re _not_ my father, Wells,” he said.

“Eobard,” Eobard corrected, “and in case you forget, I _made_ you what you are, Flash.  I feel a great degree of responsibility for you and I’m more than a little disappointed you aren’t following the _clearly,”_ his voice raised to an angry yell, “ _marked and labeled plan I set out for you._ ”

“What are you talking about?” Barry said.  He tried to shift and move, but Eobard’s boot pushed harder into Barry’s dislocated shoulder and Barry yelled in pain with the Reverse Flash kept talking.

“Finding Hal Jordan took you _far_ too long, and yes, managing to get Grodd is a pleasant surprise and will make the task easier.  You reunited with Edward Thawne, finally, which _is_ good because even in this horrific alteration of the timeline I am not planning to risk the death of my ancestor, though I can say with complete certainty that the _Wests_ are _not_ in my genealogy,” Eobard would _not stop talking_ , Barry glared at him, but Eobard kept explaining, kept ranting, giving Barry a lecture that Barry did not want or need, “don’t you realize that Iris West’s survival meant you should go for _Iris West_  and fix the damn annoying mess _that_ twisted Francesca and Paolo story has come to be.  And yes-”

“Shut _up,”_ Barry growled.

Eobard lifted his foot, slammed it hard back into Barry’s shoulder , and continued while giving Barry a morbid look of annoyance.  “If I’m not literally whispering instructions into your ear,” Eobard said, “you go _completely_ in the wrong direction.  You save Cisco and Caitlin, which I do appreciate since I enjoyed their company, but the _Rogues,_ Barry? Even Giovanni Giuseppe; how useful can _he_ be?  And Joe West is nothing more of a hindrance, Henry Allen already played his role in my ancestry and is _very_ redundant for his use considering you already have a doctor, and this,” Eobard raised his voice again, “isn’t even the worst of _the moronic, hair-brained choices you’ve been making_!”

Barry opened his mouth to talk.

Eobard held up a finger to ‘shush’ him.  “You have _always_ been a thorn in my side, Barry Allen,” Eobard said, “I can’t believe my endless reserves of patience with you.”

Barry snorted with disbelief.  Eobard glared at him and bent down, spite in his eyes, and grabbed Barry’s chin and neck with his hand.  He forced Barry to look into his eyes, and then his knee was pushing into Barry’s shoulder instead, his other knee slammed hard into Barry’s solar plexus.  “You will _listen_ to me,” Eobard snarled, “you will _listen_ and you are going to _do what I say_.”

Barry’s free hand moved, lightning speed, and he knew exactly where to put it.  His fingers curled around Eobard’s ear, and his thumb pushed against Eobard’s eye before he stopped.  The tip of his thumb pushed into the corner of Eobard’s eye, under the eyelids, a clear threat, attacking the only place Barry could reach. Barry held his hand still.

Eobard smiled.  “That’s a good Flash,” he said softly.

Barry shuddered.

“Barry, Barry, Barry,” Eobard sighed, not at all shaken by Barry’s thumb threatening to push into his eye.  “It’s very important you hear this, you can do _a lot_ better .”

Barry had no idea what Eobard was talking about.  “Why did you attack us?” Barry asked, “If you still want to build your own Central City-”

“Of course I do.  The subject at hand, however,” Eobard said.

Barry interrupted him.  “Stop attacking everyone.  Leave them alone.  Then we’ll talk.”

“We will talk _now,”_ Eobard said angrily, “while _my_ people are taking yours down.  It’s probably already happened; see, once you put a gun to a pregnant woman’s head people suddenly become so malleable.”

Barry’s heart clenched.  “Who?”

Eobard’s eyes narrowed.   _“‘Who’?”_ He repeated.  “Who else is pregnant?”

Barry swallowed and didn't answer.

Eobard rolled his eyes.  “I suppose it hardly matters.  The more pressing matter on hand is what the _fuck_ happened to your judgment, Barry, you’ve always been such a stubborn moralist-”

“Please don’t hurt anyone,” Barry said.

Eobard slammed his hand down, grabbing Barry’s neck.   _“Interrupting,”_ he snapped, his voice shaking and eyes glowing with red lightning , “ _is rude_.”  He let go of Barry’s neck, pulled Barry’s face up to meet his again, and then continued.  “If there’s a record for how much a speedster can change the past, I’m sure I’ve won.  So tell me, what am I to _do_ with your stupid, brainless collection of idiots?  Hartley, I can excuse, but you-”

“How many people do you have?” Barry asked, “why attack now. What do you want from us?”

“If you don’t stop goddamn interrupting me, Barry, I am going to make good on my threat to rip off someone’s head and I will start with Henry Allen,” Eobard said.

Barry stilled.

“I’m trying to talk about Leonard Snart,” Eobard said with scorn.  Barry wanted desperately to kick him .  “It’s _clear,”_ Eobard said, holding Barry down, “that you cannot manage to do _anything_ by yourself- meaning it is left to me, once again, to micromanage every tiny aspect of your existence so you don’t screw up the world even _more_ catastrophically than you already have.”

The painful truth was that Barry _could_ fight back.  He was faster than Eobard, he could do things that Eobard never could, and Barry could get away.  Barry might even be able to rescue someone else, but there was no way that number could stretch beyond one.  There were too many people to save, and too many people Barry wouldn’t be able to defeat without risking someone dying.

* * *

The first thing Barry saw when he followed Eobard out of the attic, holding his shoulder carefully, were three guns on the ground.  Len’s, Mick’s, and Lisa’s.  And then he saw how bright it was, how it looked like morning, and he stood stock still.

Grodd was a lumbering pile of breathing gray hair, he was resting with his back against the overturned RV, his head was bent down and only his eyes could be seen, blackened holes of decay with an intelligence inside of them.  In front of Grodd was Iris, standing with her head bowed so Barry couldn’t see her face, and pressed against Iris’ head was a crossbow held by a woman in black.

Barry’s chest burned with anger at the sight.  This was Eobard’s game, when he was outnumbered, when he wanted to manipulate, he took advantage of anyone weaker than him.  

“It really didn’t take much,” Eobard said, clamping a hand on Barry’s uninjured shoulder.  His voice was in Barry’s ear.  “I’ve always found it surprising how _easily_ those Rogues are defeated by the same tactics they’d use against you.  Snart has always struck me as an idiot.  And moronic, prideful, callous, cruel, ridiculous, shallow, materialistic, old, boring, unimportant, selfish, and _fucking annoying_.”  Eobard leaned forward, frowning.  He gripped Barry tighter.

“You don’t know a thing _about_ him,” Barry said angrily.  He didn’t see Lisa, Mick, or Len anywhere.  Eddie was sitting on the curb, beside Henry and Joe, their hands on their heads as Bivolo stood in front of them holding a gun in his only hand. Huntress, Grodd, Bivolo… the only other person Barry knew about was Nimbus.  Where was Shaw-

“I _do,”_ Eobard growled.  He pushed Barry back; Barry hit the doorframe.  Barry surged forward with a punch on instinct. Eobard flashed forward and grabbed the hand before it moved.  Barry pushed forward, turned his wrist to get free of Eobard’s grip.  Eobard snapped forward to grab Barry’s neck with his free hand.  Barry grasped and kicked up with his knee.  Eobard had to jump back to avoid Barry’s leg, his hand let go of Barry’s neck, and the solitary second that fight took ticked by until the moment passed.

Eobard leaned forward, lips curled in a snarl.  “I _know_ you, Bartholomew Henry Allen,” he said at a low growl, talking fast and enunciating every word with venom, “I know you were born in Fallville, Iowa. I _know_ the name of the doctor who delivered you.  I _know_ you were a twin and you think your brother is dead .  I _know_ every grade you received on every project, the name of all of your teachers, _I know you_.  I _know_ you will unite the superheroes.  I _know_ that man Hal Jordan will be one of your closest friends.  I _know_ the names of your _future children_.  I _know_ when you will die.  I _know_ when you come back.” Eobard’s eyes narrowed.  “ _I know everything_ there is to know about you, for now, for later, for all time.  I. Know. You .”

The light flickered over Eobard’s face.  Barry stared at him, his mind moving at its own speed, processing everything around him but not processing it, and he realized something in that moment.  “You don’t know me at all,” Barry said.

Eobard snorted.  “Your capacity to ignore facts is astounding.”

“You don’t,” Barry said again.  “You know about me, but that me isn’t _me_ anymore.  You knew about someone named Barry Allen, but I’m not that person, and you _hate_ that.  You hate that I’m not who you think I should be, and now you watched me grow up-” Barry frowned.  “You want me to be the same Barry Allen that you hated, but I’m a different person, so you don’t have strategic advantage and you’re not… angry at me the way you used to be.”

“Is that so?”  Eobard said, rage in his eyes alongside curiosity.

“The fact I’m making decisions wildly different from who you think I am scares you,” Barry said.

“Does it?”

“It does,” Barry said confidently.  He clenched his hands into fists even as his injured shoulder burned in protest.  “You have no idea what I am going to do and what I’m capable of.”

Eobard’s expression was contained, hidden from him and Barry had no idea what the other was thinking, but for the first time Barry… he wasn’t afraid of the things Eobard knew.  The Reverse Flash was a speedster, and used to know so much more than Barry did, but now Barry was accustomed to his powers like they were a part of him, and neither of them were ahead of the other.  Eobard had gathered together a team, just the same as Barry, to survive in the apocalypse.

Suddenly Eobard’s expression changed.  He raised an eyebrow, head tilted, and grinned broadly, the whites of his upper teeth showing.  “Look at _you,_ Flash,” Eobard said, bemused, “seems like you’ve been taking lessons from Captain Cold himself.  You almost made that bluff sound convincing.  But I’m calling you out.”

Barry turned sharply, glaring, but Eobard’s eyes were focused straight in front of him, not looking at Barry, the light of a fire dancing in his eyes.  

“Nimbus has your precious Rogues locked away, Mick Rory bleeding out and screaming like a madman.  I have a gun to your precious Iris’ head.  Your sweet little home is burning, and here I am, with two power rings in my pocket,” Eobard said, calmly.  “I know you’re affected.  You won’t even look at the house.”

Henry was watching Barry, his eyes never wavering, something like encouragement and pity on his face.  Eddie and Joe never kept their eyes off of Huntress and the weapon she held against Iris, even with Bivolo holding the gun in front of them and Grodd at their backs.  

Barry’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.  “If you let Mick die-”

“The man will kill himself if he keeps acting like a rabid dog,” Eobard dismissed.  “I want you to do something for me, Barry Allen.”

Barry clenched his jaw.  “I’m not doing _anything,_ for you.”

“If you do this,” Eobard told Barry calmly, “I will radio Nimbus and Digger to let the Rogues who aren’t bleeding to death to come say ‘hello’.”

“What do you want?” Barry asked.

“Look,” Eobard said sternly.  “Look at the burning house and listen to what I have to say.”

Barry swallowed.

Eobard took a step back, put his hand on Barry’s injured shoulder and pushed him to stand in the center of the door.  Eobard behind him, Barry could feel the weight of Eobard’s eyes staring at him, studying Barry.

Barry looked up, at the source of the light, the house he’d hoped more than anything that could have been safe.  It was in flames, the second floor only just beginning to smoke, though the bottom floor was ablaze, over the windows and so bright and hot in warmed Barry’s face like it was the sun.  Destroying everything inside, the familiar rooms and walls were going to be gone forever.

There was a box of photographs that had been in that room.  A little girl gave the Flash her only picture of her mother and Barry had kept it.  He didn’t remember what the girl’s mother looked like.  He didn’t remember the girl’s name .

Both of Eobard’s hands were on Barry’s shoulder now, deceivingly gentle even on the injury.  Eobard’s voice was low, calm, matter of fact.  “You think I am your enemy,” Eobard said slowly, “and it’s obvious how that expression came to pass.  But things change.  And your opinion of me _will_ change. Just as your opinion of Snart has changed.  You will grow to trust me again, Barry Allen, and when all your friends stand up together against the Black Lantern you will fight alongside me.  The Flash who _I created_.  I molded.”

Barry felt ready to be sick, blood was rushing to his head, his heartbeat thumping in his ears.  He couldn’t see Len.  The house was burning and burning and burning.  “I will never trust you,” Barry said.

“And yet, time and time again, you have never been able to beat me on your own.  I am stronger, faster, and smarter.  You’re a historic hero with a fantastical resume you _haven’t filled out yet_ and now? You _never_ will.”  Eobard clapped his hand on Barry’s uninjured shoulder.  “Look how easily you lost.  You will never be able to make the hard decision and sacrifice one of your own.  You couldn’t even let a _rat_ die.”  Eobard’s voice dropped to a whisper.  “You could fight me right now.  I can feel you shaking, you might even kill me if you try, but Iris West _will_ die if you do.”

Barry didn’t move, and Eobard chuckled.  “How,” Barry asked, “how did Grodd-”

“Time traveling gave me the benefit of hindsight.  Grodd considers me a father to him,” Eobard said.

“If you… you want to fight the Black Lantern.” Barry frowned.

“Little will change, Barry.  You’re merely going to continue on under my direction.  You will go to Starling City with a small group to keep you safe and you will lie to the Arrow, or merely cleverly forget to point out that I am the leader of the operation as lying by withholding information is far more your style.  You’ll bring back everyone of those sharpshooting Cupids to Central, and we will fight and defeat the Black Lantern.  We use _my_ strategies.  We fight when _I say_ so.  Everyone takes orders from me.”  

Barry felt the anger inside of him causing him to shake, he could feel lightning under his eyes, urging him to _run_ though Barry couldn’t move or breathe.  His face was so _hot._  “Why would Oliver listen to you?”

“Heroes often attract the weak and vulnerable, clinging to their presence, a synnecrosis.  Oliver Queen is just as susceptible to that idiotic habit as you,” Eobard said simply.  “You’ll bring him here, unsuspecting, or I start chopping off the bits of your friends I think they don’t need.”

“How?” Barry asked, hardly able to get that word out.

“I was keeping tabs on you before.  It will be fairly easy to communicate. And when the dust settles on the battlefield,” Eobard said with eerie calm, “I will have the black power ring and there will be a new Central City.  I’ll have recreated the timeline and you will all finally stop veering off in your directions and listen. To me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eobard is an asshole and has the unique perspective of knowing what the timeline should be, and what it is not currently. So I don't endorse or believe anything he says. There's a comment Eobard says about Barry being with Iris that could come across as snarky, so I just want to be clear that I love Iris West dearly as a character and support WestAllen in the show (I just don't write it).
> 
> There are some easter eggs here, that come out of Eobard's knowledge and the gleeful bragging "I am from the future and know more than you about everything" trait he had ever since his identity was revealed. Eobard is hard to write.
> 
> Sorry about the house. It is gone now, officially. :/


	41. Road to Starling City - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hal uses some pilot slang. which I had a total field day with. There will be a glossary at the bottom of the chapter just in case, though it's not necessary for understanding what's going on (it's still interesting though).

“I wish I had my ring,” Hal mused, pushing the break gently as he maneuvered the RV over the last stretch of bridge and out of Central City.  “This just feels like a harmonica moment.  Slugging along, leaving Central City on the hop of a mad man with our families behind us.  Don’t you think?”

Barry and Cisco were both sitting on the couch, hands over their ears and grimacing.  “Can you _not?”_ Cisco yelled over the shouting from the back of the RV.

Barry winced, and then pushed himself up from the couch.  He slowly ambled backward, grabbing the cabinets for support.  It was painful to remember the cabinets were empty, almost as painful being in this RV again, which was crushed to bits on one of the sides thanks to Grodd.  

“What a Charlie Foxtrot,” Hal said, loudly to Cisco.  

_“What?”_ Cisco yelled back, on edge.  They were all angry right now.

“Can you come up here and keep your head on a swivel for me?” Hal said back.  Barry paused in his way back to the RV, confused.  He and Cisco looked at each other, each reflecting a lack of understanding.  “Do the Linda Blair?” Hal clarified.  “Be my _copilot?”_

“Oh,” Barry said.  He pointed at himself, just as Cisco pointed at himself.  Barry pointed to Cisco, Cisco pointed toward Barry.  Cisco mimed ‘rock, paper, scissors’, but Barry just gestured to the front.  

Cisco sighed, and took his hands off of his ears, walking up to stand beside Hal.

Barry sighed and for a moment stood in front of the couch, close to the bed.  He could see the three figures on it, hear Mick’s shouting and growls, but for a moment, closed his eyes and tried to imagine he wasn’t there.  

“Mick, lie your goddamn ass _down!”_

“Imma _kill_ that son of a _whore,_ Snart, gunna _burn_ that smug smile off his-”

“You’re bleeding out! Stop _moving!”_

“TEAR off his testicles, light up his hair, what his _goddamn_ skin _melt-”_

“Mick! _Stop!”_

It was very hard to imagine Barry wasn’t there.  He could smell that musty, old scent of the RV that he thought he’d forgotten.  He could feel the plastic and wood cabinets under the gloves of the Flash uniform.  His body shook with the familiar, minuscule up and down, undulating, unceasing pattern of a life on the move, a life in a car, where running meant being trapped and staying still and not the glorious, controlled rise and fall of one foot hitting the ground in front of another.  Barry didn’t want to _be_ here.

He had to suck this up.  He had to deal with it.  Everyone else in this RV was feeling the exact same thing, especially Len and Mick, and Barry had to keep it together.

Barry raised his gloved hand to his forehead, wiped off the sweat pooling at his forehead.  Stress.  He glanced ahead, out of the window, seeing the somewhat familiar highway signs he knew from trips back and forth from Central to Starling.  

If Barry was alone this trip would take moments.  But Barry wasn’t as good a liar as Leonard Snart.  Eobard had admitted that begrudgingly, glared a bit as Len had sworn to bring Oliver Queen and company back to Central with no knowledge at all about the Reverse Flash, Huntress, Nimbus, Bivolo, and Grodd who would be waiting for them.

So Len was here.  But Lisa was back in Central as collateral against him.  

Cisco was here because of the radio, of the possibility of a car breaking down, and because Eobard didn’t trust Hartley.  Hal was here so he could possibly communicate on a radio, and because Eobard seemed wary of him, but Eobard had kept that green ring of Hal Jordan’s.  Apparently all of the man’s power rested in that ring.  So without it, and with Carol back in Central, Hal Jordan was in the same miserable boat as the rest of them.

As for Mick, he’d been a monster.  Inconsolable, incommunicable, Mick screamed death threats, pushed away any attempt at a doctor, and Eobard had taken one look at that wild, hotheaded rage and thrown Mick into the RV.  Caitlin, because Mick needed a doctor and Eobard wasn’t going to spare Henry.  

Henry was Barry’s collateral.  Not that Barry needed any more incentive, when Eobard had Iris, Joe, and all of his friends.  

This was a terrible situation, and no one had had a chance to talk about what they were doing.  

“Len,” Barry said, wiping at sweat on the back of his neck, “I can help hold Mick down.”

Mick Rory, attempting to shake off everyone’s hand, who had desperately lunged for the wheel a few moments ago to try and drive them back to fight the Reverse Flash, glared at Barry with murder in his eyes.  “Don’t.  You.   _Dare!”_ He snapped at him.

He was in the center of the bed, and Len was at his side with one of Mick’s arms pinned to Len’s chest.   Caitlin was sitting on the edge of the bed, a minor first aid kit in her hand and a look of confusion in her eyes. Caitlin looked like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, her large eyes kept blinking, her whole face scrunching up, as if she thought she could close her eyes, open them again, and be back sleeping in Central City.  

Barry knew that feeling, because he had felt the exact same way for the horrible first three months of the apocalypse when it was all new and unbelievable.

“Get over here, I can’t do this with one hand,” Len said, agreeing.

_“SNART!”_ Mick howled.

“CALM YOUR ASS DOWN, MICK!” Len screamed at him.

Barry moved over, pulling himself up on the bed and crawled uncomfortably past Caitlin.  He was at Mick’s other side, set a hand down on Mick’s shoulder.  Mick shoved himself out of the way.

Eyes flashing with rage, practically spitting with fury, Mick yelled at Len as loud as he could manage. “You _coward!”_ Mick insulted, mouth in a snarl, “That smug _ass_ stuck his dick down your throat and you all _thanked him for it!_ You fucking _COWARDS!”_

Barry grabbed Mick’s shoulder as hard as he could, called his speed to him and shoved Mick down onto the bed.  Len immediately pushed his knee into Mick’s hip, grappling him down so the open wounds, one in Mick’s stomach and the other in Mick’s right thigh, were more available to Caitlin.  Mick was still squirming, pushing, doing everything he could to try and get out and it took all Barry’s strength to keep the injured man down.

“If we had _your_ way,” Len hissed, “half the group would be _dead!”_

“YOU SURRENDERED!” Mick spat, “You _COWARD!_ Cold ass, son of a whore, you fucking dick, you motherfucking _COWARD,_ you yellow fucking _SHIT,_ you _PISS ASS COWARD_ _you just_ bent over and _fucking surrendered_ let him _walk all over us_ you fucking _COWARD!”_

“You go back there, and Lisa is _dead,”_ Len snapped, “You _idiot!”_

“Mick,” Barry said, trying to reason, “we have to deal with-”

“You!” Mick yelled, “ _WHAT GOOD ARE YOU?!_ WHY DIDN’T YOU TEAR OFF ALL THEIR HEADS AND THROW THEIR BRAINS TO THE WALKERS YOU SHITTY LITTLE-”

Barry saw it coming, almost in slow motion.  He didn’t do anything, just waited and watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Caitlin moved forward, raised her hand, and slapped Mick across the face with as much force as she could manage.

The smack was loud enough, and the silence after so immediate, that Cisco yelled back from the front of the RV, “Please tell me Heatwave isn’t dead?”

Mick blinked at Caitlin. Caitlin, standing over him with a deep frown on her face, stared back at Mick.  Neither moved for several long, confusing moments.

“Mick is fine,” Barry yelled up to the front of the car.  Except there was still blood _everywhere_ and Mick’s face was scarily pale.

“You,” Caitlin said, the spell broken.  She pointed her finger straight between Mick’s eyes and enunciated each word angrily.  “You will fucking die if you don’t calm down.”

Mick looked at her finger, and then down at himself as if he was only just now actually realizing he’d been shot twice.  “Shi-” Mick didn’t finish that, his face screwed up with pain and his breath caught in his throat.

“You need to breathe,” Barry advised.  He squeezed Mick’s shoulder in a comforting gesture.  “I’ve been shot before.  You just need to-”

“I _been_ shot ‘fore!” Mick growled, “Goddamn piece a’ shit motherfucking ow fucking goddamn.”

“Can you stay still?” Len asked.

Mick winced.  He didn’t answer for a few seconds and then he nodded.  Caitlin and Barry both let out a sigh of relief seeing that.  “Yea,” Mick said slowly, his jaw clenched shut.  “’can.  Shit.  Fuck.”

“Okay,” Len let go of the lock he had on Mick’s arm.  “Doctor, what do we do?” Len asked Caitlin.  

“Anyone have water?” Caitlin asked.

“No,” Barry told her.  Not long ago, when they’d been looking for the first aid kit, Barry had searched every inch of the RV.  Except for some blankets and pillows and a local map, the entire vehicle was empty of any supplies.

Caitlin pulled a bottle of ibuprofen from the first aid kit, dumped two into her hand and handed them to Mick. “Okay.  You’re going to have to swallow these dry.”

Mick grabbed them and popped them into his mouth without a second of hesitation.  

“He can handle this,” Len told Caitlin.  “I had to stitch him shut after our Italian job.  He was shot right in the center of his stomach, it was bad, but Mick could take it.”

“Couldn’ take yer fuckin’ _whining_ ‘bout getting yer precious Barbie hands bloody,” Mick mumbled.

“She’s a lot prettier than me,” Len said, looking at Mick with annoyance, “you’ll be fine.  Don’t fucking die.”

“Hope _you_ fucking die, coward,” Mick said, eyes flashing.

Barry’s jaw clenched and he had to hold himself back from a sudden instinct, roaring up in him without warning, to grab Mick by the shirt and toss him out of the moving RV.   _“Don’t,”_ Barry said with warning.  His voice came out far angrier, vibrating with power, and for a split second everyone paused with tension at the sound.  

Mick looked at Barry.  “Take yer fucking coward an’ get out ah here,” he snarled.

Barry felt the rage boiling up again, misplaced, all his anger at the events of the day suddenly flung onto Mick, but he recognized it.  He knew that’s what Mick was doing too.  Barry let the tension in his shoulders drop.  

“I’ll be okay,” Caitlin said helpfully, looking at Barry and then at Len.  “You can go sit up front.  Try and find us anywhere with water, more first aid, stronger meds… He’s not going to be able to eat solid food for awhile.”

_“Fuck,”_ Mick mumbled to himself.  He raised an arm to his head, hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow.  “No.  Shit.”

“Barry, let’s go,” Len said.  He was already moving off of the bed.

“We, are you sure?” Barry asked, “When Caitlin starts-”

“I’ll be fine,” Caitlin promised.

“She’s fine.  Mick doesn’t want us here,” Len said.

“Fuck ya,” Mick grumbled, which must have been his way of confirming that.

Still reluctant, knowing that while the bullet had gone clean through the leg, Caitlin would have to retrieve the bullet from Mick’s stomach, Barry pushed off the bed. He gave them a nervous look, and Len gently tugged on Barry’s arm and guided him over to the door.  Caitlin was pouring a bottle of peroxide onto a rag and Barry instantly flinched and looked away.

“She can be a little rough,” Len commented, impressed.

“You could say that again,” Barry said. Caitlin was definitely not a coddling doctor, Barry had been at the receiving end of her tactics for a long time.  

Pushed into the edge of the door, it was almost as if Barry and Len moved away from the others but everyone was still in eyesight, everyone could still be heard, in reality they were only a yard or two from each other.  That lack of personal space was jarring to come back to after so much time with freedom to move.

Hal was chatting with Cisco, “…had a friend who used to be into this apocalypse thing, always thought it was just a joke- Careful! We’re swerving around this!” and continued without a pause, “You’re the gizmo guy, aren’t you? I really admire that stuff you made.  Fucking magic.”  But Cisco only nodded, said one syllable answers, and kept his voice low and miserable.

The jarring turn of the RV had Mick and Caitlin both loudly cursing, and Len pressed against the wall and pulled Barry toward him to keep Barry from falling over.

Barry didn’t pull away when the RV straightened out again.  He wrapped his arms around Len to, pressed his head into Len’s shoulder, and took a deep breath.  He could feel Len’s tense muscles relaxing as they stayed there.

“Hal,” Barry said, remembering, “we need to stop at the nearest exit you see with multiple commercial signs.  Anything, gas stations, restaurants, hotels.”

“I heard the pretty doctor before,” Hal said, good-natured.  “Already looking for a place to top off.”

Mick shouted, Caitlin whispered soothingly, “It’s okay, it’s okay, we just have to get it out now,” and everyone else tried to ignore it.  Barry could feel Len flinch at that, even if Len wasn’t even looking over to where Mick was, he seemed hyperaware of what was happening.

“We got anything?” Hal asked.  “Alcohol, preferably?”

“No,” Barry said.

“Damn.”

Len’s head dropped with a sigh, nose buried behind Barry’s ear.  Barry closed his eyes, squeezed Len tighter, and they both stood there and listened together, neither one saying anything.

* * *

Mick fell asleep pretty much the instant Caitlin told him she was done.  He didn’t move at all, even when Len and Barry pulled the bloody sheets and blankets off the bed, and literally rolled Mick over to apply new ones from the closet. Len had had to rip Mick’s clothes open to make it  easier to get to the bullet wound, and he ended up just stripping Mick of his outer layers that were covered in blood. They tossed it all out of the RV while driving, leaving the stained sheet, cloths, rags and bandages to the middle of the road. 

“You can sleep,” Barry said, watching Caitlin brushing the front of her shirt again and again.  There was blood all over Caitlin’s clothes and Len’s, but they didn’t have anything for either of them to change into.  It was unsettling for Barry to keep turning around, seeing the blood over the front of Len’s shirt and jeans, and the blood covering Caitlin’s hands to her elbows.  It had to be worse for both of them.

“I’m fine,” Caitlin said.  She dropped her hands from her shirt and started tapping her knee.

“We can’t stop there,” Cisco said.

“Why not?”  Len was leaning up in the front of the RV, his hand on Cisco’s seat to support him as he kept an eye out for a place to stop.  

“The big graffiti saying ‘keep out! too many!’?” Cisco told him.

“I have my gun,” Len said, “Barry’s a meta.  You can take Mick’s gun if you like.”

“You mean _my_ guns,” Cisco mumbled.

“I think we need to find another place,” Hal Jordan said.  He hadn’t paused at all while driving, not even to let them look at the sign.

Barry sat down at the couch beside Caitlin.  He couldn’t think of anything to say..

“You honestly afraid to get in a fight with the dead?” Len said aloud, voice almost musing.  “Not so tough without that ring of yours.”

“Don’t get up on the governor and start pissing matches just cause,” Hal Jordan said, annoyed.

That wasn’t going well, Barry realized.   _Crap._  He could see how tense Len was and on edge, just as much as the rest of them, but Mick was Len’s closest friend and he had lost a lot of blood.  Lisa was back at the camp with the others.  And Len didn’t… Len didn’t handle that kind of thing well.  Len had a fuse, slow burning and hard to light, but when Len lost his cool _he lost it._

“I think I remember there’s some waterpark not too far from here,” Cisco said, “exit 112? I think.  It’s only a mile or so from the highway.  There’d be hotels, motels, gas stations, fast food.  You know?”

“We just passed exit 110,” Len said.

“We all saw that,” Hal grumbled.

“You remember the name of it?” Len asked Cisco.

Cisco thought for a moment and then nodded.  “Action,” he recalled.  Then backtracked, “That’s the…. that’s the name of it.  Action Wildwater Park.”

Caitlin moved closer to Barry’s side, clutched her bloody hands to her chest and rested her head on Barry’s arm.  Barry slowly moved, put his arm around her gently, and sat as still as he could.

Len leaned back, resting on Cisco’s chair.  “Waterpark is a good stop.  Apocalypse started in the early winter, its doubtful the park was still open by then.  The human population will be low and the amount of supplies high.”

“Not in terms of food,” Hal said stiffly.

“Other places in town will probably have things to eat,” Cisco said.  “Like I said.  Gas stations.”

“Fine,” Hal said.  “Then can the supervillain stop hovering behind me as I drive?”

“Who?” Cisco said with surprise.  “Oh!”

“Excuse me?” Len asked, calm.

Caitlin, against Barry’s side, sighed loudly.  She mumbled something but Barry couldn’t hear it.  Barry felt the beginnings of a pounding headache, and his stomach hurt, a twisting feeling of being gutted from the lack of having had food or water all day.  “Can you _not,_ Hal?” Barry said loudly.

“I know how to drive this damn thing,” Hal said.

“Supervillain?” Len repeated with annoyance.

“You have an alias and you run around turning people into icicles, what the fuck would _you_ call it?” Hal asked.

_Supervillain,_ Barry concurred.  Len had been pretty much the definition of a supervillain, but Barry wasn’t exactly encouraging the idea.  The sooner his friends and family conveniently… _forgot_ that fact, which was not going to happen, the better.

“A thief with a gimmick,” Len said.  “You have something against me, then?”

Hal whistled low.  “Seems like everyone has some sort of problem with you.”

“Not everyone,” Barry said, “can we not fight?  We’re going to be stuck together until we find Oliver.”

“That’s one thing,” Hal said, continuing while ignoring Barry.  “You’re a murderer who weaseled your way into getting special protection for you and your friends and now expects to be in charge of everything since you’re sleeping with the Flash.”

“Are _you_ seriously doing this?” Barry said angrily.  He almost jostled Caitlin and moved up, but felt a bit trapped.  Caitlin was hearing everything, but her eyes were closed and she looked half asleep against Barry’s side.

“No offense, Hal,” Cisco jumped in, “but we don’t really know you.”

“I don’t have any problem with three of the people in here,” Hal said sternly.  

“I’m assuming it’s Mick and I who make the exception?” Len said.  “The man half dead in the back of the car and me?  What exactly do you think I’m going to do?  Ice you in your sleep?  What would be the _point_ of that?”

“There’s a sign for the waterpark.  Three miles,” Cisco said.

“I am under no obligation to _like_ you.  My fun meter was pegged a long time ago,” Hal said angrily, “I’m a Green Lantern.  Scumbags like you make my job harder than it already is.”

“Here I thought we’d be singing kumbaya under the starlight,” Len said casually.  “Just drive to the waterpark.”

The RV jerked a bit, making a sharper than necessary turn around some obstacle in the road that Barry couldn’t see from his position.  Caitlin’s head jerked up, looking to Mick’s sleeping form in the bed, but Mick didn’t give any sign that he’d been woken from the movement.

“Or what?” Hal grumbled.

“Or I’ll ice you in your sleep,” Len said casually.

Caitlin sat up, wiped her forehead on the upper part of her shirt, and then said back, leaning against Barry’s arm with a sigh.  Barry reached out to take her hand, hoping to comfort her, still not knowing what to say, but she waved his hands away.  “I’m covered in blood, Barry,” she said quietly.

“Are you okay?” Barry asked her.

“Yeah,” Caitlin said.  Her voice was practically a whisper.  “My kingdom for a bottle of tequila?”  She smiled, half a frown, looking like she was about to cry.  

Barry pulled her close again, let her rest her head on his shoulder.  He didn’t know what she was thinking, or could possibly be going through.  He knew it had to have taken an immense amount of strength to live through the long, terrible experiences of the day and perform surgery on an un-anesthetized patient after.  “Yeah,” Barry agreed.

Oh, were Len and Hal still talking?   _Damn,_ Barry needed a moment of actual _silence._

“-where you get off doing what you do,” Hal was saying.

“With the Flash,” Len interrupted, “I thought that was obvious.”

“You’re a smug, _narcissistic,”_ Hal began.

“Can we _stop?!_ ” Barry yelled, his own head pounding with a headache.  “Can you both just _stop_ talking?!”  He saw Cisco look back, catch Barry’s eye with a grateful look.  

“Sure,” Hal said.

Len turned instantly, moved to the table and sat down at one of the chairs.  He was facing Barry, looking at him, but then Barry saw Len’s eyes move over to Mick’s sleeping form on the bed.  Len’s face tensed, forehead pressed into a hard line, he looked like pissed and… dangerous.  With the cold gun at his hip, the blood on his clothes, and the bandaged stump of his left arm… yeah.  Barry, if he took a step back and just looked at Len without context, could see why Hal would be worried.

Len learned on his elbows, frowned, slumped on the table and met Barry’s eyes again.  ‘It’s okay’, Len mouthed at him.  And Barry felt just a little bit better.

* * *

“This is the last place,” Cisco said, gesturing with his thumb behind him at the large gate across the road.  ‘Action Wa—–k Par-’ read the sign, which was understandable after the long winter.  The gate looked strong, and if they were planning to go into there for supplies than it would be better to tackle in the morning.  It was very late already, most everything was in hues of dark blue and gray.

Barry, opening up the ice machine, jumped up with surprise.  “It’s full,” Barry said.  There were large ice chunks floating in the melted water, and it was not at all as clean as a water bottle, but this was the only thing they’d found to drink.

Gas stations had been completely cleaned out of any medical supplies or anything to drink or eat.  

They’d found some clothes, sweatpants and shirts all saying ‘I love Action!’, which Cisco had managed a few lame jokes over but no one was really in the mood for.

“Damn,” Cisco said.  He moved over to look at the water.  “I can’t tell if I’m disappointed or excited.”

“We all need water,” Barry said.   _Excited,_ he decided for himself.  “I’d drink a puddle of mud at this point.”

“Yeah,” Cisco admitted.  He placed his hand on his hip and frowned at the water in the ice machine.  “We’ll need to find glasses to put this in,” he said.

“There was the empty McDonalds down the road,” Barry said. He made the decision by himself and called the lightning, moving from his position in a flash.  In an instant he threw open the door to the McDonald's, then he stepped over the frozen body of a zombie, grabbed a stack of paper McDonald's cups and straws, and the next instant he was standing beside Cisco again.  “Cups,” Barry said.

Cisco smiled, half-hearted but it was the first genuine grin Barry had seen from anyone all day.  Cisco took one cup, and Barry took one for himself and set the rest on top of the machine.  Barry dipped his cup in the water first, it was very cold even through the Flash gloves, and Cisco followed right after.

“Cheers,” Cisco said, tapping his cup against Barry’s.

Barry chuckled.  “Cheers,” he agreed.  Cisco took a sip and Barry drank the entire thing.

“Fuck,” Cisco whispered.

Barry dipped his cup in the water again. “What?”

“Things are just… Lisa is back there with Wells,” Cisco said, looking miserable.  “And, I’m sorry, Iris and your dad too.  And everyone. I’m worried.  Everyone’s worried.  But…” He looked down at the cup in his hands.  “I’m drinking old water out of a metal box with a McDonald's cup.”

“I’m drinking old water out of a metal box with a McDonald's cup.”

“I’m on my third,” Barry said. 

Cisco snorted. He took a few steps over and sat on the end of the porch.

The motel was a long series of about ten rooms, all facing the road, with a two step drop from where they were to the end. There was a trashed vending machine farther down, the glass broken and all food removed.

“Len and Hal still looking for zombies?” Cisco asked. 

Barry nodded. He sat down next to Cisco. His fourth drink of water was in his hands and by this point Barry found it easier just to sip. The worst of the pangs and his headache had subsided. 

“Are you?” Cisco asked. 

Barry looked at him. Cisco’s hair was a mess of tangles, pulled back behind his ears, there was a bruise swelling up under Cisco’s eye that Barry hadn’t noticed until now. “Am I what?” Barry asked. 

“Are you worried?” Cisco wondered, voice quiet. 

Barry felt his chest tighten. “Am I _worried?”_ He said, harsh. “Are you kidding? He _killed_ my mother and he’s holding my _father_ as collateral.”

Cisco’s eyes widened and he looked away. “I’m sorry.”

Barry’s heart sank. “Shit, Cisco,” he said, softer, “ _I’m_ sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” Cisco said.  He smiled, a bad attempt, his chin wobbling. “He’s got Lisa too.”

Barry swallowed. “I know.”

“Y'know,” Cisco said, voice shaking, “y'know what’s weird? If- if this all works out. You and me might be brothers in law.”

The thought haven’t ever crossed Barry’s mind, he blinked first with confusion as he connected the dots. “Oh,” Barry realized. “Oh! Yeah,” he grinned, “we would. Wow. You and I dating siblings, wow.”

“Who'da thought?” Cisco said. He glanced over at the RV, parked by the office to the motel that stood off to the side of the rest, a tiny shack with a maintenance schedule in front of it, covered in ‘I love Action!’ and Missouri stickers. “Would be cool.  Being brothers.”

“It’d be awesome,” Barry said. 

Cisco nodded. “Definitely. Are we bringing Mick into one of the rooms?”

“I don’t think so,” Barry said, “Caitlin doesn’t want to move him until the bleeding stops.”

“It hasn’t?”

“She doesn’t think it’s bad. Or at least that’s what she told Len,” Barry said. “I haven’t asked her.”

“Okay.” Cisco nodded. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Barry glanced up. Past the wooden roof of the motel, there were stars up in the sky, starting to be visible beyond the dark blue of the darkening light there. It was pretty. The stars were always pretty now. 

“You haven’t had sex in my suit, right?” Cisco asked. 

Barry froze. “Wh-” he tensed, feeling blood rising to his face. 

Cisco laughed, loud, stuttered and ringing. “You did!“ 

"You’re not mad?” Barry asked, nervous. 

“Did he call you Flash?” Cisco said, chortling. He was laughing hard, his shoulders shaking, and he set the cup down to keep from spilling it. 

“Uh… he does that sometimes.”

Cisco laughed harder. “Oh god. Do you call him Cold?”

“I’m pleading the fifth on that,” Barry said. He smiled, but then Cisco kept laughing, rising a hand to his face to stop it but he just couldn’t, and the sound was infectious enough that Barry started to laugh too. 

* * *

Len kicked the dusty sheets to the corner of the room before taking the blankets from the RV and throwing them over. “We have books, magazines, and fucking gallons of _spray paint_ ,” he said, annoyed, “but no fuckers left even molded potato chips for us.”

“Don’t remind me,” Barry said. He peeled off the Flash uniform, noting the tightness but lack of pain in his shoulder. “I’m starving.”

Len was making some sort of effort to tuck the first blanket down, the mattress was gray and suspect. The whole motel rooms were dusty, and Barry had had to run through the two rooms they were using before anyone could get in without sneezing. Caitlin was staying in the RV, keeping an eye on Mick. Hal was taking the first watch and sharing a room with Cisco. 

Len’s hair was a little longer, Barry noticed. When Barry’d shaved it last time it had been close to the skull. Barry moved forward, shrugging off his underwear and kicking it to the side with the other sheets, they’d found a pack of boxers even if it had the waterpark logo, and at least there was that. Clothes were easy to find. Food wasn’t. Barry ignored the pangs in his stomach and reached out to brush his hand over the soft stubble of hair on Len’s head. 

Len didn’t give any indication that he noticed. He was taking off his bloody shirt and jeans, kicking them over along with everyone else they were done with. 

“You have some gray,” Barry said. He ran his hair over the small graying areas, behind Len’s ears and at his forehead. 

“It’s all the stress dealing with you,” Len said calmly. He was naked, casual, a moment later. 

“I think I’m the one who stresses,” Barry said. His eyes took in everything, the electric lamp in the corner barely casting enough light, but the curve of Len’s back and shoulders, the muscles under-

“That ‘Reverse Flash’,” Len asked as he pulled himself up to the bed with a groan. He flipped over onto his back, and then Barry leaned on the bed, mouth dry. “You think he’ll hurt the others?” Len looked at Barry, the picture of calm. 

Barry knew. Len wasn’t at all, there was a tension in his muscles, a hardness in his eyes, and Len’s collected expression, impassive, was obviously a front. He hadn’t been that cut off from Barry for a long time. Barry understood, everything that happened was still… there. “I don’t know,” Barry said honestly. 

“Lisa,” Len asked, saying nothing else. 

“He has a grudge against me,” Barry said, “and maybe Hartley too. But I don’t think he’d… unless he was angry or there’s a reason, he doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“Lisa can protect herself,” Len said. 

“I know,” Barry told him. 

“She’s smart. She can talk her way out of anything and fight if she needs to,” Len said.

“I know,” Barry said again. 

Len looked at the door, for some reason. Barry stared at him, confused and not knowing what to say. “She’s fine,” Len said. 

_Oh._  Len was freaking out. But sitting there like stone was how he was… reacting to it. 

Barry’s heart ached for him, and he knew. He knew. “They’ll all be okay,” Barry said, because he wanted to hear those words said aloud. “My father. Lisa. Mick. We just have to…” The knowledge that Barry was going to have go lead his friend and mentor, Oliver, into that situation blind, to _betray him,_ stung. 

“Where’d I put that bag?” Len said to himself. “Fuck. Wait.” Len turned over, sat up off the bed with a sigh. 

Barry watched him go, a bit transfixed at the sigh, eyes watching and memorizing every curve and movement. Barry sat back on the bed, turning to watch Len look. Definitely… his focus was miles away from their troubles in an instant, watching Len, naked, move around the room- god. _Fuck._ The way Len’s-

“We aren’t going to try anything,” Len said. He bent down, unzipping a cheap gym bag they’d found in one hotel. Len had carried it with them while they looked around, Cisco and Hal each had one too. Len filled it with books primarily. Barry was the one who found lube and slipped it in. Apparently Len had noticed. “We will play it safe and do exactly what he wants. There have been too many close calls with psychopaths and I’m not going to let us risk loosing someone.”

It was a plan, at least. “You’re not a coward,” Barry said. 

Len chuckled. “I know,” he said, “thank you, darling.”

Barry stared, heat rising in his groin and he grabbed himself, looking at Len. Hard angles, softness, cock hanging low between his legs. 

“Please tell me you’re-” Barry started to say. Len raised his hand, shaking a bit the bottle of KY he was holding. “Oh, good.”

“Very cute,” Len said. “You want to?”

“Fuck. _Yes,”_ Barry said enthusiastically. 

Len smiled for a moment and then it was gone. Face impassive. Len dropped the bottle on the corner of the bed then reached between his own legs. “How much?” He asked, eyes bright. 

Barry could feel his own heartbeat in his ears. “A lot,” he said, annoyed. 

Len didn’t move, just kept _standing there_ , holding that ridiculous bit of flesh between his hands, stroking as if this was casual, a smirk on his face. Barry couldn’t help it, felt himself stroking faster as he stared. 

“I’ve been terrible, haven’t I?” Len said calmly. He stepped forward, knees hit the mattress, and then stopped. His eyes stared, bright and calculating, at Barry and Barry was _pissed._

“What are you waiting for?” Barry said, glaring. 

Len looked at himself, his fingers stroking slowly, not hard yet, as if he was rubbing his hand on a machine and not himself. Meanwhile Barry was stiff at the sight, his entire body almost shaking with anticipation. “You’re probably so sensitive by now,” Len teased, “just dying for it. Having to wait so long. I really am terrible. Villainous.”  

Then something came across Len’s face, a seriousness. “I,” Len said, regret in his voice, “one of us could have died today. I didn’t… I was tired but I shouldn’t have.”

Barry leaned up, concerned. “What? You… Len it’s okay.”

“No it’s…” Len sat on the end of the bed. Barry moved forward quickly, hand on Len’s shoulder.

“What?” Barry said. 

Len kissed him. _Uhn,_ Barry kissed him back hard, pulled Len closer. In a moment he moved, sitting up in Len’s lap, Len between his legs. His hand at the back of Len’s head, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Len returned it, meeting Barry’s movements with his own, and for a long time it was just that. Contact together, breathing in turn, lips meeting lips and tongues, Barry taking in every bit of the feeling of Len’s body against his own.   
Len pulled away, Barry moved his head to kiss Len’s neck, then lower, his mouth pressing against the curve of Len’s shoulder. “I drank too much,” Len said. 

Barry lifted his head. “What? When?”

“Last night I just, I was sore from that drive and I drank too much.” Len sounded like he was confessing.

“Um. That’s fine,” Barry assured him. The situation felt a bit uncomfortable now that he took a step back from it, spine curved so he could look down at Len, his own hardness pressed against Len’s stomach, Barry’s body supported by his knees. 

“I just, I shouldn’t’ve,” Len apologized, “we don’t get to be together every night and I know it’s harder for you than for me.”

“You,” Barry stared. He adjusted himself to be more comfortable and then kissed Len’s mouth softly. “It’s okay. I don’t care. It’s good, Len.” He moved back, looking Len in the eye. “I love you. You can take days off if you need to, Len, it’s not… it’s not an obligation it’s just, it’s us.”

Len’s thumb brushed against Barry’s cheek, then his hand stroked through Barry’s hair. “I want you,” Len said, “and I want you to be happy when you’re with me.”

“I _am,”_ Barry promised, “I’m more than happy.”

Len kissed him, slowly. “Barry,” he said, voice low, “I have never been happier in my life. I don’t know if I’ve even been happy before. And with you, I-” He swallowed. “I mean, Barry, I. I love you and I just. Keep. I keep having this feeling,” Len’s voice was shaking, “I keep having this feeling it will be gone any second.”

Barry grabbed Len tight, pushed their mouths together hard enough to bruise. Len’s back hit the mattress, and Barry reached between them, holding Len and his cocks together. Len moaned, and Barry said, sympathetic and serious, “I’m not going, I love you and I _mean_ it.”

Len sat upward, teeth biting down on Barry’s lip, Barry gasped at that, felt his body responding. Len’s hand grasped around the mattress, searching. “I love _you,”_ Len said, voice gruff, “don’t die.”

“I prom-” Barry started to say with a grin, and then he felt Len’s fingers, slick against him, pushing at the curve of his ass and the words he was saying cut off. Barry arched into Len’s hands, enthusiastic and eager for everything.  Barry moved up at the wordless urge from Len, spread his legs to make it easier, and kissed Len as hard as he could while Len’s fingers slid inside him.

Barry rocked back into Len’s hand immediately, feeling the push inside like a familiar burn. It was _good,_ so good. Barry stroked them together, relished that feeling of their lengths pressed against each other, but god Len’s fingers were _fuck,_ the hottest thing, the best thing.

It felt almost like a daze, too good to be real, nostalgia, with a heavy sense off life being too intense, each tiny motion setting off a million sparks in his brain. _Len,_ so damn _good._

“Are you ready-”

“God, yeah,” Barry breathed. “Now. _Fuck,_ Len. _Now.”_

Len chuckled, Barry didn’t have the mental cognition to realize why. Len’s fingers where gone and Barry whimpered at the loss, his shoulders tensed in anticipation. The click of a bottle opening again, Len’s hand moved between them, slicking himself up in the process.

Barry pushed Len back more, hands on Len’s chest for purchase, then he felt Len up against his ass and _damn_ he’d been waiting for this so long. He missed this. Missed the heat of their skin together, the breathy moans Len whispered when it was good for him, the way everything was so intense, it built like a race, anticipation and need at every instant, Barry loved this, and he loved Len. 

Len grinned at him while Barry slowly pushed down, Len’s cock filling him up, beautifully familiar by now, every way their bodies fit together- it was different every time somehow. Better everytime. But maybe that was just the excitement of the moment- god, Len felt good. Barry groaned, head thrown back in the moment. Len’s hand gripped his hip tight. 

“So good, Barry,” Len mumbled. His hips rolled up- _shit, shit yes._

Barry gasped, “F- _fuck,_ Len,” he aaid. And he raised himself up on his knees, and then back down, and god, his entire body felt charged, like lightning. His arms and hands were shaking again, vibrating while holding Len down.

Len kept rolling his hips, while Barry moved up and down, riding him hard, fast, he didn’t want a single second in between the thrust, it was so good, every movement and Barry couldn’t stand the thought of stopping.

Faster, and faster, Barry just- at that point, definitely moving faster than any non-meta human could go and shit, Barry loved his powers. He always did but now- shit, he loved his powers. Loved, loved, loved every bit of this moment. 

He kept moving, feeling Len inside him, rolling, hard, fucking himself on Len impatiently, excited, _needing_ this more than anything. Len moaning under him, hand gripping Barry’s hips as tight as he could. White knuckled, biting lip, forehead pressed in a hard line. Len whispering Barry’s name like a series of reverent curses. 

Barry was too focused on the movement, on Len in side of him. He hadn’t even touched himself when climaxed. His head thrown back, not pausing moving, it built up with a shout from the deepest part of his stomach. 

He was still at the height of it when Len rolled him over onto his back, hardly even felt Len grabbing his cock and stroking him fast as he came, keeping the momentum. Barry mumbled, whispering something he didn’t even know.

Len kissed him again, force and strength, Barry meeting that with worn out movements, still feeling his body shake. 

Len’s leg curled over Barry’s hips, Barry felt Len thrusting up against his side then. Barry reached out, hand curled around Len’s cock and Len grabbed that hand in his own. He slid himself, thrusting into both their hands. And Len was kissing him, passionately and Barry melted into it.  

Then Len’s breaths were jagged and short, and Barry opened eyes he had forgotten were closed to watch. Len’s eyes closing, face tense, mouth dropped open. A stuttering whisper, hips thrusting at Barry’s side as he jerked. 

And Len was done. Relaxed, he fell over at Barry’s side, head dropping on Barry’s shoulder. “Mmh,” Len mumbled. 

“Yeah,” Barry said. He curled his arms around Len’s shoulder and felt goosebumps with Len in his arms. He could feel himself already tired. 

“M, Barry,” Len mumbled, eyes closed and body limp against Barry’s side, “I’ve second watch. Need ta…” a sigh, “get some clothes on before Hal comes barging in here to get me up.”

“Five minutes,” Barry said, yawning.

Len nodded in agreement at that and sighed again with contentment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I named the waterpark after a waterpark near where I live and didn't notice the innuendo of "I love Action!" until after I wrote it down. In other news, my subconscious is terrible and now I know why the real park's slogan is NOT "I love Action!"
> 
> Glossary:
> 
> Bubbas: Fellow squadron members; anyone who flies the same aircraft as you do.  
> Charlie Foxtrot: Phonetics for “cluster-fuck”  
> Gizmo: A piece of technical gear  
> Head on a Swivel: Keeping an eye peeled for an ACM adversary; also called “doing the Linda Blair” (I laughed my head off when I heard this and have already said this more than once)  
> Hop: A mission, or flight  
> My Fun Meter is Pegged: Sarcastic comment for, “I am not enjoying this any more.”  
> Top Off: Fill up with gas.  
> Up on the Governor: When someone is about to have a tantrum


	42. 550 Miles from Starling City

“Uhn,” Barry bit down on his lip, stifling the rest of the noise.  Len’s mouth kissed along his neck, sweet, soft points of pressure down the side that made Barry’s toes curl.  “Def…” Barry broke the word to gasp as Len’s fingers hit the _perfect_ spot.  He shifted, his left leg finding purchase higher on Len’s side to give Len easier access to do _that_ again.  “Definitely oatmeal,” Barry finished, breathing the words out like a sigh.

Len hummed against his neck, pleasant and relaxed.  The morning light was low gold through the curtains, telling them it was morning but only just barely.  The covers were pushed down to Len’s ankles, and Barry curled up half on Len’s side, Len’s fingers working inside him lazily while Barry stroked Len slowly, hand steadily vibrating, a pace neither of them felt the need to move faster to.  

This was… this was what Barry’s gone to sleep the night before expecting.  And when he’d woken up, early thanks to his ability to make each minute he slept last an hour, he’d woken Len up to soft kisses on his shoulder and Len hadn’t even opened his eyes before he was kissing back.

“Oatmeal,” Len mumbled the word as a question into Barry’s neck.  Len’s teeth traced across Barry’s skin and Barry shuddered.

“It’s really fuh- filling,” Barry said with a sharp intake of breath.  Len’s fingers were deep into him, hitting the perfect place, a slow curl that made his whole body want to shake, made him almost want to beg for more except Barry wanted this, a quiet good morning, Len trembling and hard under his hand, soft kisses against each other’s skin, he wanted this to just _last_ and not end.

“Oatmeal,” Len kissed the bottom of Barry’s neck, then up toward his chin, “number one priority after water,” his lips pressed against Barry’s mouth for only a moment before his head turned and he was kissing Barry’s ear.

“Gh- mn, yeah,” Barry said, barely able to keep his eyes open.  His whole body felt liquid in its elasticity, like he’d  come out of this day with stretchy abilities instead of speed because each limb felt long, his skin felt heavy, and Len was _so…_ warm.

“Number three,” Len said, short kiss to Barry’s ear and then a slow hiss of pleasure when Barry’s thumb swirled over the top of his cock- Barry loved making Len make that sound, “Mick.”

Barry lifted his free hand up to Len’s shoulder, pushing Len’s body into an easier place for his lips to kiss.  His mouth kissed Len’s shoulder, and then Barry tugged more on that arm, kissing down the length of it until his mouth hit the bandages.  The metallic scents drew him back up, focusing on the strong muscle, damn Len had good arms and… what was that?  “Mick?” Barry asked.

“We need ta-” Len curled his fingers, Barry gasped, Len smirked when he kissed Barry’s neck, “hook ‘em up.”

“Who?”  Barry opened his eyes, just a bit.  He found Len’s face wasn’t far from him, and he kissed the stubble growing on Len’s chin.

“Mick and Snow,” Len said into Barry’s skin.

Weird turn for the conversation to take, considering the position of their hands and the fact Barry was kind of casually humping Len’s stomach but- eh, Barry rolled with it. “Shouldn’t they just do it on their own?”

Len shook his head before lifting his chin so Barry could keep kissing along it, and Barry obliged happily.  “He’s my friend, I think I have a bit of an obligation,” he muttered.  Then a gasp and a hiss from him, Barry’s hand job game was apparently pretty great, score one for the resident speedster.  “Think how much fun it’ll be if all my friends shack up with your friends.”

“‘Shack up’,” Barry teased, “how old _are_ you again?”

Len snorted, ran his teeth along Barry’s neck to make him shiver. “Funny.”

“Caitlin, though?”

Len did _not_ stop with his fingers while he talked and Barry felt like he should be awarded for that, maybe given the keys to Central City, or y’know, more happy morning wakeups like this.  Barry could so get used to waking up like this. “She’s pretty, he’s not terrible, why not?” Len asked.

“She’s…” _married,_ Barry thought, but he knew how well that argument had gone before, and he didn’t want to be stuck arguing the possibility of whether or not Caitlin was a widow and didn’t know it, the idea of having that conversation behind Caitlin’s back almost made him cringe.  And he probably would have, if he wasn’t just _so_ relaxed and comfy.  “Don’t you think they won’t get along?” He asked instead.  “They’re really different.”

“She seems like she can handle him,” Len said.  

“What would we even do?” Barry said with a roll of his eyes.  His hand stalled for a moment, Len grunted in protest and Barry started up stroking him again with a murmured, “sorry.”

“Tell him stuff girls like,” Len said, “tell her Mick has a big dick and he’s… sensitive?”

Barry squinted at him.  “First thing, I’ve seen Mick naked I guess but I’ve never actually _looked_ because I’m not weird, and second, Mick is _not_ sensitive.  He’s the opposite of sensitive.  He probably would light puppies on fire for fun.”

Len nuzzled his nose under Barry’s collarbone and mumbled into his chest, “Mick likes dogs.”

“Mick also _likes_ bonfires and guns,” Barry protested.  He opened his mouth to say more and- _“Holy,_ Len, _god_ keep your fingers-”

“C’mon, you know what women like,” Len said, his voice serious even while giving Barry soft kisses between phrases, “should we get candles? Maybe some kind of lycra outfit-”

“Wha- for… don’t tell me who you think should be wearing the outfit.”

“Women like… vampires, right?” Len lifted his head to look Barry in the eye and _oh my god, he’s serious,_ Barry thought.  “We need food, maybe we get Mick standing somehow, have him kill something for dinner-”

“Is your prototype idea of a woman from the stone age or something?” Barry said.

Len snorted, and then continued as if his ideas were completely normal and not the weirdest, most out of the box ideas for seduction that Barry had ever heard, “Oh.  I need you to help me convince Mick to shave.”

Barry grimaced.  “I think you… I think you’re coming at this from a weird perspective.”

Len frowned, j _eez, how come he can say such crazy shit and still drive me crazy with his fingers,_ and defended, “I’ve slept with a woman before.”

Barry’s eyes widened.  “Oh.”  He had… he wasn’t exactly sure what to think of that.

Len backtracked immediately, suddenly looking nervous, “It’s not… we weren’t _together,_ or anything, she was a prostitute-”

“You slept with a _prostitute?!”_ Barry stared at him. _“Why?”_

“I was young, alright, I… it took me awhile to come out of the closet in the gangs I ran with.  Shit.  Look, I’m just _saying,_ I…” Len floundered.  “Okay.  Fine.”  He shook his head.  “I have no idea what women like.”

“No kidding,” Barry said.  And _damn,_ there was a lot about Len he didn’t know. 

“We need to find alcohol,” Len said. He pressed a kiss to Barry’s collar again, and Barry arched into it, and then Len was back to how he was before.  Kissing, utterly insatiable, somehow able to multitask while Barry’s hand vibrated on him.  

“You’ll have to take the alcohol and pour it over my eyes and light a match before I get anywhere near a scene where you and I _shave_ Mick.”  Barry said, squirming as he could feel heat rising toward a crescendo in his groin.

“Dramatic,” Len mumbled into his ear.

Barry tightened his leg straddling Len’s side, he was getting close, breath coming a bit shorter and he sped up his hand stroking Len. “Not half as dramatic as you thinking Mick should _kill an animal for dinner_ to impress her,” Barry countered, “or a lycra vampire.  I can’t believe you and I somehow _started_ dating if this is how-”

Barry didn’t notice the door opening, and if he had he would have run and shut it before it could.  It wasn’t until halfway through, “Hal and Mick are fighting and we need to get on the road-” that Barry realized that voice was _not_ Len and holy _shit._

He bolted from the bed as a jolt of lightning, fast enough to see the widening eyes and disgust on Caitlin and Cisco’s faces, and then he slammed the door in their faces as fast as the rusty hinges could shut.  

_“Ow,”_ Barry heard someone say from behind the door.  Cisco.  

“Oh _god,”_ that was Caitlin.

“Put a sock on the door,” Cisco yelled from behind the painted wood.

Barry stared at the closed door, heat rising up to his face so badly he could feel his ears turning purple.  “You… _knock!”_ He yelled back.

“I’m so sorry, oh _god,”_ Caitlin was mumbling under her breath, mumbling and giggling, _“oh_ my god, _oh_ no, Barry, I’m so sorry….” at that point Barry wasn’t sure if Caitlin was apologizing for what she saw or the outbursts of nervous laughter.

Barry didn’t see Len standing next to him until Len was, moving by Barry’s side and calmly locking the door.  Why hadn’t they locked the door? Barry thought, grimacing.  Because they were worried Mick would need help in the middle of the night or something? Not worth it.  Barry felt the embarrassment trickle down his skin like a bucket of cold water was dumped on his head.

“We will be out,” Len said, “in five minutes.”

* * *

Barry nervously tugged at the Action Waterpark t-shit he was wearing on his top, the Flash costume pulled just up to his hips and the arms tied around his stomach like a hoodie.  He walked out of the room, tip toeing, even though he could see Caitlin and Cisco standing by the ice machine as soon as he walked out.

Len was… cool as a cucumber about the entire thing, which was a bit annoying, but Barry really did envy the nonchalant stride and nod Len gave the other two.  “Sorry it took so long,” Len said.  He tugged at his shirt as he did, clad head to toe in Action Waterpark merchandise. All his other clothes were bloody and… it was a little funny to see Len in sweatpants and a dorky t-shirt.

Barry almost hit him.  Cisco coughed into his hand, and Caitlin started to giggle again.   _“So,”_ Barry said, annoyed.

“S, s- so-, _sorry!”_ Caitlin said, burying her head in her hands.  Her shoulders shook.

It wasn’t _that_ funny.  Cisco, giving Len a nervous glance, stepped forward and said, “Mick and Hal keep arguing about what we’re doing now.”

“Shouldn’t Mick be resting?” Barry said.

Len snorted.  “You ain’t convincing Mick of that any sooner than me.”

_Huh?_ Barry blinked.  “Did you just say ‘ain’t’?”

“Nice to see the spark is still there, that the relationshiphasn’tgonecold- nailed it!” Cisco yelled, interrupting.  He froze when everyone stared at him.  “Sorry.”

“That was hilarious,” Len said.

“No,” Barry grabbed Len’s arm, “nope.  Come on.  We have to figure out where we’re going to find food; we don’t have time for dumb jokes.”

Barry waited for Len to say something, but Len was staring over the road at the gate to the waterpark.  “See that?” Len said.

Caitlin looked, and immediately ran past Barry, saying she was going to tell Mick and Hal what was happening.  Cisco stepped forward, right next to Len and squinted at that black, hard-to-see human-ish shape by the gate.  It was really too far away to make out any definite shape. Len’s hand dropped to his side, pulling out his gun swiftly.  Barry could see the soft blue light of the cold gun slowly growing brighter.

“Dead or not?” Len asked, looking at the shape with suspicion.

“I can run up and check,” Barry offered.

“Wait,” Cisco said.  He took another step forward, and then, with a big swooping gesture, waved.  It took a second, Cisco throwing his whole body into it, and then he stopped and all three watched that far away shape.

It took a second, but then an arm was outstretched and the figure waved back.

Barry didn’t want to meet any more people.  It hardly ever worked out fine, there were less than a handful of instances when new people hadn’t tried to kill them or do something equally sinister.  “Let’s just get on the road,” Barry said, “we’ll stop at the next place and look for food.”

“They have food,” Len said.

“That…” Cisco turned in surprise, “that’s what _raiders_ do.”

“That’s what thieves do,” Len said without apology.  “We’ll only take what we absolutely need for the next few days.”

“I’m not comfortable with that,” Barry said, keeping his eye trained on the person but using his superspeed to look around them, for once paying attention to his surroundings.  “Look, I get that I’m normally Team ‘Let’s-Poke-It-With-A-Stick’ but everyone in Central is relying on us.”

Cisco made a strangled sound.  Barry didn’t know what it meant.  “We,” Cisco coughed to clear his throat, “we could trade with them?”

“We have nothing to offer,” Len said.

“There’s the guns,” Cisco said.

“Even without the sentiment of the guns,” Len said, “these guns are the only projectile weapons we have.  We can’t sell.”

“So…” Barry said.  The shadowy figure was moving, it looked straight behind him passed a ticket booth.  “I don’t think they’ll give us food for free.”

“Exactly,” Len said, nodding.

“So we should just leave,” Barry said.

“I say we talk to them, find out what they have, and when they don’t give it to us we take just enough to last a few days,” Len said, an edge to his tone as he repeated what he’d already said.

“May… maybe we could offer them skills?” Cisco asked.  “Y’know? Like maybe they have something we could do in return instead?  I mean, I’m a mechanic.  Caitlin’s a doctor.  You’re a…” he frowned at Len, “a _you,_ and Barry’s a forensic scientist and superhero.  There has to be uses for that, right?”

“This should be a vote,” Barry said.

“A vote?”  Len frowned at him.

Barry looked Len straight in the eye.  “A vote,” he said again.  Len narrowed his eyes, confused, but after a few seconds nodded in agreement.  

* * *

No one voted with Barry.  The unfortunate reality of leaving the decision to everyone else, even the most sensible decision, aka Barry’s idea to _get the hell out of there and stay on track with the mission_ , was swept aside.

Cisco’s idea took second, with Hal Jordan agreeing the team might have some extra skills.  Caitlin, strangely, voted along with Len’s plan the second Len said it, and Mick Rory, who had an ashen white face and looked only seconds from passing out with every word, had the final vote and unsurprisingly chose ‘Stay, and probably steal from them’.

By this point, Hal, who was keeping watch and holding Mick’s heat gun, detected two people by the gate.  Mick hadn’t seen who had his gun yet, to protest.  

Len pulled Barry aside while the others were discussing which members of the group would go up to meet the live humans in the waterpark and which were staying behind.  He led Barry around the other side of the RV, where the only thing they could see was the curved rooms of the motel and the gates of the waterpark were far behind them.

Len brushed his hand on Barry’s shoulder and stared at him.

Barry had no idea what Len was trying to do.  “What?” He asked.

“You’re okay?” Len frowned.

“We made a decision as a group,” Barry told him, “that’s what I wanted us to do.  Just because it wasn’t what I picked doesn’t mean I won’t…” the idea of stealing from other survivors didn’t sit well with him, but neither did the idea of delaying the time it would take them to get to Starling City… and _holy hell_ , Barry was _hungry._  “I’ll do whatever the group decides to do.”

“Good,” Len said.  He clapped his hand on Barry’s shoulder and gave Barry a short kiss.  

Barry wrapped his arms around Len’s neck and pulled him back, letting the kiss last longer until pulling away felt… better.  “I love you,” Barry said.

Len grinned, cupping Barry’s face in his hand. “Love _you,_ and I’m _very_ much looking forward to working together.”

“Stealing,” Barry corrected, not happy about it.

Len smiled brighter.  “Cold and the Flash,” he said, almost reverent in his tone.

“If these people have any kids, I’m calling for a revote,” Barry warned.

“I can agree with that,” Len told him, “I’m not heartless.”

“I know,” Barry said with a smile, stepping closer to him.  “Be safe-”

“My hand is over my eyes!” Cisco said from the door of the RV, “I see nothing! Can you guys come back in here because there are two people at the gate now and we need to see what they want?”

“Yeah,” Barry said, and Len squeezed his hand once before they walked over.

“Um, right,” Cisco said.  He tucked his hair behind his ear and continued, “Hal wants to take the heat gun and go with you.  Mick wants Caitlin to be the one that goes with you, mainly because he doesn’t want Hal to touch his gun.”

“It is Mick’s,” Len said with a shrug.

“But it was stolen from Cisco,” Barry said to them.  

“So, agreed?” Cisco said, looking between them.  “I should go, right?”

“You want to?” Barry asked.

“I mean, you got Len as the muscle, you, Barry, are uh… the meta-muscle, and I can do mechanic stuff and… and mainly I don’t want to stay back here.  I want to know what’s happening,” Cisco said in a rush.

Len looked at Barry.  “Why not?”

“Yeah,” Barry agreed, “why not?  Hal needs to stay to-”

“ _I can hear you!_ ” Hal Jordan yelled from inside the RV.

“He’s basically dead weight without that power ring,” Len said, loud-on-purpose apparently just to spite him.  “Alright, MacGyver,” Len said to Cisco, “grab the gun and let’s go.”

* * *

“He was this really smart guy,” Cisco said, “who could make bombs out of like, batteries and rubber bands.”  The three of them were standing at the gate, waiting for the figure in the back to come forward.  There was some group, the shadows visible behind the ticket counters, talking, and they weren’t saying or doing anything yet which was making Len nervous.

“Was he from the Cold War or something?” Barry asked Cisco, pretending to put as much effort into the conversation as Cisco was while his eyes trained on the figures on the floor.  There was something off about the whole thing, setting him on edge, and honestly he almost wished he’d just _insisted_ the group leave.  

“What?” Cisco said.  He fumbled with the heat gun, accidentally pointing the end toward his face, and Len reached over calmly to point the end of the gun back toward the gate.  

“It’s from a television show,” Len said, “an old one.”

“C’mon, you _have_ to have seen it on Netflix,” Cisco pressed.  

“The one with Scott Bakula?” Barry asked.

“That’s Quantum Leap,” Cisco said with a role of his eyes, “of course _you’d_ ’ve seen Quantum Leap and not MacGyver.”

“Len, how do _you_ know about that show?”  Barry asked.  Wait, was that movement?  It looked like one of the other people in the group was starting to come into view.

“Because I’m nearly forty and I worked two days a year,” Len said with a shrug, “There was planning, interacting, general business but- you see that?”

Barry actually saw it _first_ but that point didn’t seem to matter at the moment.  His stomach took that moment to growl, his stomach’s moral compass apparently siding with _Len,_ and Barry grimaced just as two people stepped out from under the ticket booth, one with a bat and the other an old fashioned shotgun, and stepped toward them.

“Fuck,” Len mumbled under his breath.

Barry was half relieved.  But the scowl on the face of the boy, who had the gun, and the girl with the bat, seemed to indicate that despite their age this wouldn’t be simple.

The boy looked like he was thirteen, his hair was matted, but face still round and healthy like he was getting enough to eat with red patches like sunburns on his nose and ears.  The girl was older, maybe fifteen or sixteen, her hair was long and tied back in a matty braid, her skin weather beaten and dark, her eyes piercing and green under a Central City Miner’s cap.

“Halt!” The girl said, fingering her bat like she was about to swing.

“We’re not moving,” Cisco told her.

“Are you two in charge here?” Barry asked.  He knew there were others; he could still see shadows moving from behind the ticket booths.  

“No,” the boy grumbled.

“We’re here,” the girl said proudly, “to find out whatchoo interlopers have come for.”

“Food,” Len said, “basically.”

“Len,” Barry hissed at him.

“Mhm?” Len said, not taking his eyes off the kids.  The girl and boy were both looking at Len.

“They’re kids,” Barry reminded him.

“They have plenty of food,” Len said.  He turned to the kids.  “You do, don’t you?  You have plenty of food.  These gates are rusted shut and haven’t been open in awhile and neither of you look sick.”

“S… so?” The girl glared at him.

Barry sighed.  At least this was… well at least, according to all appearances, these kids weren’t out to fight them.

“We need food for a day.  Or two,” Len said to the girl, “we have a doctor who can help if any one needs one and a mechanic who can fix anything that needs it.  And he’s a superhero,” Len pointed to Barry with his thumb.

“We _got_ a-” the boy started to say, but the girl glared at him.

“We uh…” The girl said, frowning.  “Can your mechanic fix radios?”

“Yes,” Cisco said.

“And uh…” The girl bit her lip.  “Your doctor can’t fix the zombies, can he?”

“Sorry, no,” Barry said, “but if anyone needs health advice, or has something broken or injured, she can definitely help you.”  Barry frowned at them.  “Is there anyone older we can-“ Len cleared his throat, interrupting Barry.  

“Okay…” The girl shared a glance with the boy, shaking her head and the boy nodding and then she sighed.  “I’ll get Boss then, an’ she’ll… tell you what’s going on. Tim’s just gunna watcha tell I get back.”  

“Fine by us,” Len told her.

The girl raised her head, saluted, and sprinted back to the ticket booths and then, Barry could hear, kept running after to find this other person.  

“You guys have any music?” The boy, Tim, asked after a few moments of silence.  

“Not really,” Barry apologized.  “What happened to the adults?”

“Don’t wanna tell you,” Tim said. He stared at Len’s gun.  “That gun is weird.”

“Yes it is,” Len said.

* * *

Caitlin was doing her best to get Mick to lie down on the bed, but Mick was clearly trying to prove his masculinity and kept insisting on sitting up.  The longer he was sitting up, the more shaky he seemed to get, and the beard stubble on his face was nearly black in comparison to the pallor on his face.  “That’s what…” Mick was breathing heavily, hands clenched at the edge of the blankets to keep himself from falling over, “is so weird ‘bout uh… Brazilian pizza, y’know?”

Hal Jordan was throwing a flashlight battery up in the air and catching it, leaning over the edge of the driver’s seat in a vision of complete and utter boredom.  Entertaining himself; Caitlin couldn’t fault Hal not for keeping watch.  Barry had run back a moment ago to tell them that the, his exact word as, “children” in the waterpark would give them some cans and “jiffy pop” if Cisco would fix their radios.  

Caitlin had already filled up an empty bucket and cooler with that, horribly unsanitary water from the ice machine while… ugh it made her shudder every time she had to drink it but she knew there was nothing else.  

Mick, meanwhile, drank the water like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.  Which was good, Caitlin wanted him to drink lots of water.

She was sitting on the couch bed, which was pulled out, across from Mick where she could still lean on the wall with a pillow under her elbow. She nodded to Mick’s story.  “Because there was chicken hearts on the menu?” She asked.

“’Cause the ah,” Mick struggled to keep himself upright which was almost endearing.  

He really should be sleeping, and if Caitlin had any ability to just knock drugs into his system to _get_ him to sleep she would have, but the pain wasn’t making it easy, the painkillers were only enough to alleviate swelling not keep him from feeling anything, so she knew why he’d want to stay awake.  Still, a part of her… could at least well… she could recognize the obvious social cues. Mick wanted to stay awake to talk to her.

“The…” Mick took a deep breath through his nose and steeled himself for the next sentence, “Brazilians use… pizza as like… a shovel for meat…”

“Fascinating, though I think you’re generalizing,” Caitlin said.  

Mick shook his head with a wince.  “Nah, all Brazillians… pizza shovels. It’s why I prefer old f… ashioned steak an’… beer.”  She tried not to smile but… well, it was kind of funny.

She saw the beads of sweet on his forehead starting to trickle down his neck, Mick didn’t seem to notice, his body was nearly feverish but Caitlin wasn’t… _extremely_ worried yet (just highly concerned), and she stood up.  “Let me grab a towel,” she said, though it only took three steps to get into the bathroom and the towels, half of which taken from the motel and the others had been there before, and grabbed a smaller one.  

“S’ weird,” Mick grumbled, “’fore I met Len I once worked w’ this… this gang they… made’ya eat actual livin' _bats_ and shoot somebody in a dri….ve by fer inti…. tia…. tion.”

Caitlin leaned up on the bed, swallowed her nerves, balled the towel up and then… she started with the bottom of his neck, dabbing at the sweat there.  Mick watched her, exhausted eyes looking at her face and not her hands. She tried not to think too much, not about how hot his skin was and feverish or… or about the stupid neck muscles and big hands she- she wasn’t thinking…

_Concentrate on your job,_ Caitlin chided herself.

“I like when yer face… is all mad,” Mick said.  His voice sounding dry already.  He turned over, getting his McDonalds cup.  

Caitlin tried to avoid the flush rising on her face.  She wiped down Mick’s face from sweat quickly and stepped back aside.  She dropped the towel on the couch, and sat back where she was before, her hands nervously tugging at her shirt collar.

“Copin’ mechanism,” Mick mumbled.

“Wh- what?” Caitlin blinked.

He raised a shaky hand to point at her chest- oh her shirt not her… he pointed at her shirt.  “W’ yer hands. Copin’ mechanism.”  He dropped his hand back to the mattress with a sigh of relief.  “My shrink said that.”

“Oh,” Caitlin said. _Is it polite to elaborate on that or should I drop-_

Mick kept her from musing over her reply for too long.  “S’rry ‘bout… the t… ime I kidnapped ya and rigged ya to a bomb.”

“Oh,” _Right.  That was a big deal._  “Thanks.”  

Mick sighed with relief.  “Good.”

“Don’t uh…”  Caitlin attempted a smile as she joked, “Don’t do it again?”

“Promise,” Mick said, entirely serious.

Caitlin grimaced, the joke had not… well, jokes _never_ went the way she wanted them too.  And that constant slap behind them of Hal catching that stupid battery over and over again wasn’t helping her concentrate.  The others were still taking forever talking to those children in the waterpark.

Caitlin kind of envied them.  Those kids had a huge stockpile of food and powders to make soda, apparently, the rides were high in the air and accessible by stairs to make viewing their surroundings easy, and the entire compound was fenced in.  She just hoped the group would be able to… change the world.  End this apocalypse.  And…. and somewhere find a Lush store with bath bombs because _fuck_ she wanted one.

But for now she needed… common ground to get this conversation going.  “Len and Barry, huh?” She said before she could think better of it.

Mick made a strangled sound like he was going to laugh and then he grabbed at the bullet wound in his stomach with an expression of pain.  “Was… Lisa an’ I kept thinkin’… Len was gunna make a big idiot… o’ himself.  More th’n usual.”

“I can’t think of two people who are more opposite,” Caitlin said with a nervous laugh.

“Little nerd mechanic an… the truck drivin’ Calamity Jane,” Mick said immediately.

“What?”

“Ramon and Lisa,” Mick explained.

_Oh._ “Oh,” Caitlin said.  Biting her lip, she leaned back and was about to tug on her shirt out of habit when she- looked at Mick and then decided not to.  She ran her hand through her hair instead and… her hand was stuck in an instant.  Tangles.  Tangles everywhere.  “Oh,” she said again, staring at her hand.

“It looks nice,” Mick told her.

“No one is even talking to me,” Hal mumbled to himself from the front of the RV.

“What?  Wh-my hair?” Caitlin asked, confused.

Mick nodded.

Caitlin felt her entire body light up in a blush like a light turning from yellow to read- or… maybe from red to green with the way Mick was smiling, those strong, manly arms leaning a bit forward so- _Ending that train of thought!_ She swallowed.  “It’s not that great.  Really.  I’m so used to makeup and shampoo and conditioner and… I was still doing it like a month after the dead started showing up but then…”   _Then._  Then Ronnie left again and after being gone a week she stopped caring what color her eyelashes or lips were.

“Nah…” Mick made a strangled noise, and then coughed.  Caitlin jumped up with worry to help him, but he just grimaced, shook his head and took a drink of water.  “Ya… look like Jacqueline Bisset.”

Caitlin was ninety-five percent sure Mick had pronounced that name wrong, but she also wasn’t sure who that was.  She could guess he was comparing her to some actress or porn star he knew.  And that was flattering enough; since she was sure she looked like crap lately. “Thank you,” Caitlin said, genuine.

Mick nodded, grimaced and then made an attempt to smile through it.  Caitlin wondered if she should get the towel again and how long Barry, Cisco, and Len were going to be.  “Have you ever wondered,” Caitlin said, her stomach feeling sick with embarrassment as she did, “what would have happened if uh… if I’d traveled with you guys since the start of the apocalypse too?”

“No,” Mick said.

“Oh,” Caitlin’s stomach dropped.  She rubbed the back of her neck.  “I- I mean, me neither I-”

Mick moved forward, painfully, a determined look on his face.  He reached out, for her shoulder, and pulled her closer to him.  Caitlin had plenty of time to leave but she just… didn’t move.  Mick’s touch was warm and strong, and he wrapped her around his arms like the safest, most comfortable thing in the universe.  

And then he kissed her, and Caitlin _melted_ into it.  Her whole body went limp, _relaxed,_ Mick’s lips were singing fire that sent tingles down her body, cracking the nerves and she didn’t want to let go. His mouth was strong, forceful without being too demanding, but… _passionate_ and Caitlin… there was no way to stress how good this felt, how _safe, safe, safe_ Mick felt to her.

He let go. without his touch the air gave her goosebumps.  Caitlin stared at him, blinking, her mind thinking everything and nothing at once.  Mick _smiled._  Wow.  Okay then.  Okay.  Caitlin was so, so extremely aware that she wasn’t wearing her ring at this moment.  Had Mick noticed?  Oh he… he definitely had noticed.  Huh.   _Mick._  

“So…” Caitlin said softly.  

“You know I’m _here,_ right?” Hal Jordan said loudly.

Caitlin almost screamed.  

“Ya,” Mick growled at Hal, “gunna fuckin’ light your goddamn… _chin_ on fire.”

“You and your villain friends _really_ have some seedy tactics-” Hal started to say, when the door opened and a confusing flash of red and black light passed by them, dropped a box on the floor, left, and then returned with another box which then faded into Barry.

“Alright,” Barry said, slapping his hands together to get rid of the dust.  “One, we are definitely coming back here to get those kids into a real home once we save the world.  Two, do we still have those spices Len used to make vegetarian chili that one time?”

Caitlin stared at him, panicking, trying to send Barry mental-panicking messages.  Flash signals sent from her brain.  Because holy _crap-_

“Three, did something happen?” Barry said after no one answered him.

“No,” Mick said instantly.

“Nope.  All’s warm fuzzy here,” Hal said, “we ready to punch out?”

“Yes,” Caitlin said breathlessly.  “Let’s uh… we have 550 more miles to go.”

“Next stop, we need to top off on gas,” Hal told everyone in the car.  

Caitlin swallowed hard and tried not to think about how the world felt very very cold when she wasn’t in Mick’s arms.


	43. Pictures (not a chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry, but work and personal life and my own trying to make my continuing updates be the best and most genuine as possible (basically a lot of things) have made it so I can't update this week. I am honestly, very sorry about that.

In lieu of an update, while I was at work I sketched and inked some art so there will be something I could post today.  The art poses are taken from references from either The Walking Dead comics or tell-tale video game series. 

1\. Caitlin and Mick

2\. Lisa

3\. Barry and Eobard

4\. Len


	44. Road to Starling City - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so so so so much thanks to RedHead for this chapter

Barry moved fast, practically full-speed, his legs pumping underneath him, heel to toe, pushing off and landing in a smooth motion so deeply rooted into his being that it felt like this was the way it should always be. Barry Allen running, running, running.  

This time, there was a bag looped over his shoulder, and his heels skidded against the ground when he was done. He turned sharply, dropped the bag down on the floor, and then bent his knees and slid down onto the chair right beside Len, slowing down gradually as he did, until the moment his cheek gently tapped on Len’s shoulder.

Len didn’t even blink.  Barry’d been hoping for more of a ‘oh damn, you fantastical superpowered lover of mine’ reaction.  He settled for the slight look of amusement that crossed Len’s face while he was sorting the cans Barry’d found on the first trip.  

“Honestly, I didn’t expect there to be all these supplies,” Cisco said.  He was sitting across from the table, currently making a tower out of beans.  Hal was driving, and Mick sitting on the couch, half asleep, while Caitlin sat next to him with a book in her hand.  Caitlin was leaning up against Mick. Even Barry could tell there was _something_ going on.

Barry was… he was okay with it.  It was obvious, in the two days they’d been on the road together, that Caitlin just seemed instantly calmer.  Mick wasn’t yelling or calling anyone cowards either, which was a plus.  Also, this had all been accomplished without any of Len’s suggestions so thank _god._  

“At this rate well have more than enough to bring the others back,” Cisco said.

Len nodded, made a grunt of agreement.  

Barry heard Mick Rory grumbling wordlessly, and turned around to see Caitlin had sat up.  “Felicity,” Caitlin said.  She didn’t elaborate.

Barry’s eyes widened.  Just as Cisco said, “I hope she’s alive,” Barry jumped up and said, “Of _course_ Felicity will be there with Oliver.”

“Who’s Felicity?” Hal asked loudly from the front of the car.

“Our friend, she’s a computer person.  She worked with the Arrow,” Cisco explained.

“I knew it,” Len said instantly.  “How many people worked with the Arrow?”

Cisco looked at Barry.  “Um.”

“These are all more costumed people right?” Hal Jordan asked, with a laugh.

“Aren’t you always trying to convince me you’re a police officer from space?” Barry said with a grin.  

Hal turned around, one hand on the wheel, and grinned broadly.  “When I get my ring back I am _so_ taking you to Mars.”

“What’s on Mars?” Len asked with a snort.

“Martians,” Barry said immediately.

Len stared at him.  “You don’t actually-”

“Martians on Mars,” Hal said, “Carol and I had a talk with them before coming over to Earth, they were worried about the sudden lack of American Earth television programming.”

“There’s evidence of water on Mars,” Barry began to say.

“We can _see_ Mars,” Len protested, "there are no Martians."

“I really have to take Captain Cold’s side here,” Cisco said, “I don’t think there are Martians on Mars, Barry.”

“They’re very technologically advanced,” Hal Jordan said, chuckling.

Barry was never entirely sure if there were Martians or not, it was the same kind of thing with the Loch Ness Monster and the moon landing where he believed the conspiracy theory half the time. But if Hal wasn’t lying Barry wanted it to be clear what side he was on.  Or he wanted to be able to say ‘I told you so’.  Either of those.

“This conversation needs beer,” Len said.  He rested his arms on the table, leaned his head on them and looked at Barry with interest.

“Seconded,” Caitlin said, “he’s lying his ass off, there are no Martians.”

“I dunno,” Mick said, waking up more after he heard ‘beer’.  He looked vaguely disappointed no one was putting a beer in his hand, but said anyway, “I think there’r could be aliens.”

“Looks like the car is split fifty-fifty,” Len said to Barry.

“I never said I don’t believe in _alien life_ ,” Caitlin corrected, “just not _Martian_ life.”

“I saw them,” Hal protested loudly.  “Does my actual visual sighting count for nothing?”

“I think-“ Barry started to say.

“Quiet!” Hal said suddenly.  The conversation stilled instantly; Hal was looking out the window with fierce concentration as he moved.    
  
It took several long minutes until he talked again.  “Sorry,” Hal said, “I needed to concentrate, didn’t want to hit the walking ones with the car.”

* * *

 

Barry pushed the crowbar down, hands gripping the handle with all his strength. Hal, with the other crowbar, yanked down and the board over the door sprang off on Hal's end. Barry yanked one more time and then the board sprang off.  

"That's it," Hal said, wiping his forehead. "Should be able to open the door now."

"I could have frozen it," Len said, stepping up next to the others.

"If we destroyed the door, we wouldn't be able to close it behind us," Hal said.

"Let's not keep Mick waiting," Len said, not even turning to look at Hal. He bent down in front of the door, cold gun up at his shoulder, with a few hairpins.

Hal stepped back, and Barry did too to give Len space. "He can open it like that? It is a hospital, the lock is probably complicated," Hal mumbled to Barry.

"He knows what he's doing," Barry said.

After a few minutes, Hal glanced behind them at the RV parked close to the enterance. "Think the hospital has food that isn't gone to shit?"

"Probably something stale in the vending machines," Barry said.

"Ho hos," Hal said.

"Coke."

"Snickers."

"Fritos."

"What I wouldn't give for a Taco Bell," Hal bemoaned.

"I miss Chipotle," Barry said with a long sigh.

"Long John Silvers."

"KFC."

"God," Hal said, stretching his back, "come back to Earth and all the great fast food chains are gone. You have no idea how long I've been craving Chinese food."

"Yeah," Barry suddenly craved Chinese food.

"You know," Hal said.

"No more talk about food," Barry said, his stomach growling.

"Actually," Hal said, "'was just gunna say, first time I saw Carol with her power ring she tried to cut my head off."

"What?" Barry's eyed widened.

"I get it," Hal said, "the appeal of sleeping with the enemy. It's exciting."

"Uh, thanks," Barry said, looking at Len and then snapping his eyes over to the right at a dead tree.

"You know," Hal said, so loudly it seemed sudden, "I think you and I could be friends." He clamped his hands down onto Barry's shoulder.

"Really?" Barry said, not convinced.

"Really," Hal said. "Ask me something about aliens."

"Oh!" Barry's heart sped up. "The Green Lanterns- if they're intergalactic then-"

The door to the hospital opened with a rusty squeal, and Len stood up and shot Hal a glare. "You're not seriously believing this," Len said to Barry. He slammed the collection of small metal pins into his pocket, mouth snarling, "You're a space police officer."

"I swear," Hal said angrily, "as soon as I get my ring back-"

"Guys," Barry said, annoyed this was starting up again.

"I'll fly you into orbit and leave you there," Hal continued.

Len let out an amused snort. Barry pointed to the door. "Hello?" Barry said loudly, "Food. _Medical supplies._ "

Hal gripped the heat gun closer and shrugged the backpack onto his side. "I'll take bottom floor and the kitchen."

"We'll take the upstairs," Barry said.

Len went over to the stairs at a leisurely walk, keeping an eye on his surroundings and Barry followed. Barry kept his hand on the knife and the other on the empty gym bag slung over his shoulder. The stairs were dark, but lit by light at every floor. For a short period only the dim blue light of the cold gun lighted their way but soon they were back where they could see.

"It," Barry started to say, and then stopped, the wording confusing him.

Len opened the door slowly, wrinkled his nose at the smell of decay and the generic, metallic scent of a hospital. "What?"

"It really just..." Barry frowned. He waited until both he and Len had stepped into the hall and determined no walkers were near to continue, "Everyone is... It annoys me. Everyone always has to have an opinion about _us,_ even people we don't know. And everyone's opinion is so _negative._ They just don't leave it alone."

Len stepped into the first room, Barry followed and shut the door behind them. Len opened the curtains separating the two hospital beds and then started to look through the room for anything useful. "Lisa likes you. So does Mick," he said as he searched.

"Yeah," Barry focused his attention half on the room, and half looking through the small window in the door down the empty hallway. "I think they're more astonished you managed to find anyone," he said, a grin on his face.

Len snorted and bent down to unlock a first aid kit. "Last gay man in the apocalypse," he said. "Your dad seemed fine. Henry."

"He _said_ he was fine," Barry said sourly, "I don't think he is. I know him."

"He needs time to adjust," Len said, "you're in your mid-twenties, you never came out, and suddenly show up with a criminal who's nearly forty." Len looked at Barry for a moment, amused, before turning back to the first aid kit. "I think it went as well as it could."

"Eddie doesn't like you," Barry said.

"I shot at him." Len shrugged. "Your friend Iris doesn't mind me."

"She's just glad I'm not pining after her anymore and our friendship is back to normal," Barry shrugged.

"Or she's happy that you're happy."

"I want people to stop judging us," Barry said.

"They won't," Len said casually. He opened the first aid kit and lowered his bag to the floor. "I'm a man, you're a man."

Barry's eyes widened. "My friends and family aren't _bigots,"_ he defended.

"Everyone _says_ times are different," Len said, "which, considering it's the apocalypse, they are, but even before, things aren't that progressive. Everyone's fine with gays until they have to see it in person."

"My family isn't like that," Barry said. "Joe isn't like that. Our captain was gay, he was Joe's friend."

"Joe West seems like a man with a very specific idea of how his children are supposed to behave and he doesn't appear to want to change," Len said. He set the first aid kit down. "Anything else in here?"

Barry sped through the room, fast as lightning, found some bandages in the bathroom and towels but nothing else of use. They left the room, careful, and went straight to the next.

"Joe wants what's best for me," Barry said.

"He wants what he thinks is best for you and that's different," Len said.

Barry sighed, mulling that over. "It doesn't help that you're a criminal," he said.

"No, it doesn't," Len agreed. "Your problem is you want everyone to like you."

"What?" Barry shook his head. "I mean, ev- everyone wants people to like them."

"I couldn't give a shit," Len said with a smirk.

Barry rolled his eyes. "Of course _you_ don't, you're _you."_

"And," Len added, "you want everyone to like _me,_ since you do."

Barry rubbed at his temples. "I don't know," he said.

"I don't care what any of our friends have to think of me as long as they're alive to think it," Len said. "We should look for a nurses station."

"It really doesn't bother you?" Barry asked as they walked down the hallway.

"No," Len said, "it's not like your friends Cisco or Caitlin can voice an opinion."

Barry snorted. "That's true."

"So who are you-" Len started to say.

"Oh!" Barry remembered. Len flinched at the noise, powering up his gun where Barry was facing. "No," Barry shook his head, "I just- if Oliver is alive-"

"The Arrow?" Len asked.

"Yeah," Barry said. "If Oliver's alive then Felicity is probably alive."

"Who?"

"Felicity Smoak, she works with Oliver and Diggle-"

"Who?"

"Oliver's uh, bodyguard."

Len raised an eyebrow. "The Arrow needs a bodyguard?"

"No, it's a cover thing-"

"So what about Felicity?" Len asked with interest.

"We uh-" Barry swallowed. "We kissed once?"

Len looked at Barry like he was waiting for something. "And?"

"That's, uh- that's it." Barry stared, nervous. "That's it."

Len chuckled, and just shrugged.

Barry opened a supply door, sped through the small closet of cleaning supplies to be sure it was empty of walkers. Len followed him inside and started looking through it. "You're not... You're okay?" Barry asked. He grabbed a box of sanitation wipes, not sure if he should waste space on it but then remembered the bathroom in the RV. He took four.

"Barry," Len said, "if I'm going to be jealous it's not going to be over a girl you kissed. I admit I was worried over Iris."

"Yeah," Barry said. That made sense. "I still had to tell you."

"Of course. Let's try and find some food."

* * *

 

Hartley could feel his lip already starting to swell, a painful ache that made his empty stomach turn sour and feel sick. He grimaced, forehead wrinkled into hard lines, and stared at the chess game in front of him.

The Huntress sat at the other end of the table, eating the canned fruit and muffins with Eddie Thawne. Eddie's chest and legs were tied to the seat, with dark lines under his eyes, but he glared past her and toward Eobard.

Eobard moved his knight to take one of Hartley's pawns. "Old times, isn't it?"

Hartley didn't move.

"You know what's interesting about you?" Eobard said, as if this was a casual conversation about the weather. "How desperately _moldable_ you are."

Hartley swallowed, his mouth felt dry.

"Simply put," Eobard moved one of Hartley's pieces for him, "you, _Pied Piper_ , were a highly unimportant thorn in my side several years from now. Then all it took is some motivation from me and you fling innocent people over a bridge. Then, spending time with the _Flash,_ you play the role of sordid pet hero."

Hartley blinked. "Are you saying I was a hero in your time-"

"I'm saying," Eobard said, taking out more of Hartley's pieces, an unabashed type of mirth on his face,  "that you're merely fun to destroy."

Hartley's stomach sank, fear reaching up to claw at his insides. He wished he had any of his tech, wished he could summon a thousand rats to bite off the smug look on Eobard's face, wished he could escape. Instead, he moved a bishop.

* * *

 

"Damn," Shawna mumbled as she wrapped the blindfold over her face tight, almost painfully so. Her throat lurched at the powerless feeling.

"Okay," Iris said, "she's tied up."

The door opened. The man from before set the tray down.

"When the _Flash_ gets back," Iris warned.

"When the Flash gets back, we go to war. Eat up," the man said, gruffly, before slamming the door shut again.

* * *

 

"Damn," Henry said again. He sat on the floor, lit one of the candles with the one that was starting to flicker out. Joe sat on the bed on the far corner of the room, and Mark _(Mardon,_ the man whose brother Joe had killed) glared from the opposite side of the room.

"So," Henry said, one of a thousand attempts to ease the tension in the room with a conversation, "where did you meet Shawna?"

"An illegal, underground prison. That _he_ put me in," Mark growled.

"I think you're forgetting _why_ we put you there," Joe said, eyes flashing.

Henry turned his attention back to the food.

* * *

 

"Damn," James brushed his hand over the bruise on Hartley's lip, "I'm going to kill him."

"Thanks, think right now I want to sleep," Hartley mumbled, shaking his head. James took Hartley's arm, pulled him closer to him and walked with him the few steps toward the blanket on the floor.

"I think we’re _all_ considering murder," Lisa said. She was lying on the floor, pillow under her head and glaring up at the ceiling. Her fingers tapped an impatient rhythm against her bicep.

_"Planning,"_ James corrected.

Lisa sighed, and Hartley agreed. He sank onto the blanket and felt suddenly incredibly comfortable. James sat next to him, back against the wall, and his side felt warm to Hartley.

* * *

 

Barry moved to shut the hospital room door and waved to Cisco across the hall.  Cisco rolled his eyes and then jerked his and up and down in a-

Barry shut the door.

“You good?” Len asked.  He was lying on the bed already, finally content.  Though the electricity hadn’t been working, Len had still found a way to adjust the seat and even before helping Caitlin bring Mick into one of the rooms he’d been lying on it trying to be sure it was at the right incline.  Now, he looked comfortable, one hand resting on the back of his head, eyes closed and face tilted up, blankets from several rooms lapped around his naked waist.  

Barry shrugged.  “I need to use the bathroom,” he said, stepping away from Len and letting his eyes linger for a moment on… well, everything.

“Magic’s gone already?” Len said lazily.

Barry glared at Len for a moment before shutting the bathroom door.  He spent a bit longer in there than he meant to, taking care of business, and then spending a long moment brushing his teeth and staring at his face in the mirror.  Then mouthwash.  Then floss.  Then yawning and turning his face to look at the stubble growing in.  He needed to shave again.

Barry washed his hands with a water bottle for the second time, ran his fingers through his hair, and stepped back into the room.

“You look nice,” Len said.  

Barry stripped and crawled up into bed beside him.  

“We have to decide soon,” Len said.

Barry pushed his nose into the curve of Len’s neck and shoulder and let out a sigh. Barry's hand barely touched Len's thigh before Len shuffled away, shaking his head. "We need to talk about what we're going to do," Len said.  

Barry put his hand behind his head instead. "About what?"

"The speedster," Len said. He opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling with a glare.

Barry frowned, confused. "I thought we decided?"

"We said that to the others," Len said, "doesn't mean that's what we should do. We need to make an offensive move here."

Barry shook his head.

"Scarlet," Len said, shifting so he could face Barry, "no more hiding. We need to think this through."

Barry stiffened. "No more _hiding?"_ He repeated.

"I get it," Len continued, "but we have to plan this through. He can't win."

"I'm not _letting_ the Reverse Flash win," Barry said, sitting up, "he has our _families."_

"Which is why we need to strike back," Len said, "we need to figure out a way to kill the bastard."

"So that's your solution?" Barry said, suddenly feeling anger tugging at him, "You want to risk everyone's lives and _kill_ Wells when his back is turned?"

"That's _why_ we need to discuss this-"

"We agreed to do what he tells us to!" Barry jumped off the bed, pulling on his sweatpants before turning back around. "You _said_ that was the best course of action!"

"We need to discuss this," Len sat up, not budging from the bed. "Sit down."  Barry narrowed his eyes for a moment, looking at Len, and then sat on the edge of the hospital bed, waiting.  "No more distractions-"

"Distractions?" Barry asked, not sure he wanted the word clarified.

"When you," Len hesitated, "when we talk about _us_ instead of how to survive."

Barry let those words sink into his skin for a long moment. "Our _relationship?_ That's the distraction?"

Len didn't even blink. "Yes."

"Well," Barry wasn't sure how to take that, his stomach churned with guilt and his head boiled with anger, "I'm _sorry_ I've been so distracting to your _survival-"_

"Calm down," Len said.

"Really?" Barry glared at him.

Len waited a few seconds, they felt like minutes to Barry, before he continued, "It's just that we have more important things to divert our attention to."

Barry couldn't find a flaw in that, but the whole thing itched under his skin with irritation and he found his teeth grinding into each other. "Fine. No distractions. What is your new plan, _Captain?"_

Len reached for Barry's arm, and Barry moved it out of the way. "Don't," Len said.

"What. Is. The. Plan." Barry said, slowly, enunciating each syllable.

Len pulled his hand back, fingers twitching, rested it on his arm and then moved it immediately to hold his other wrist.  "I think we should keep everyone else in the dark," Len said.

"Then why tell _me,"_ Barry asked. The words sounded... damn, Barry's voice sounded mad. He wasn't as mad as he sounded but... his stomach churned, his back and shoulders were getting cold.

"You're just as much the leader as I am," Len told him.

Barry shook his head. "Doesn't feel like it."

"Do you think anyone besides Mick or Lisa would be listening to me if you didn't tell them to?" Len said. When Barry didn't answer, he continued, "Don't be an idiot. Mark wants to leave. Hartley doesn't respect me. And the rest of the group is _only_ with us because you are. You're the one who makes the final decisions, Barry."

"I don't," Barry said, "I don't _make_ decisions."

"I know you're afraid-"

Barry's stomach dropped. "I'm not."

"Barry, _nothing_ that happened is your fault. You are _not_ responsible."  Len's eyes were soft, and he leaned forward like he wanted to touch Barry again but didn't. "It's so goddamn easy to pretend nothing is happening and that you and I are all there is, and that we're safe, but we're not. And we can't be if Wells is alive."

"Then tell me your plan," Barry said, looking anywhere but at Len.

"I need your _help,_ Barry," Len said softly.

"I can't _help_ anyone," Barry said, loud and angry, feeling almost nauseous at the thought, "I can't do _anything._ Everyone is in danger! Everyone! I couldn't save everyone _before,_  
I can't do it _now!"_

"But you'll try, you _always_ try," Len said, "that's all we have to do."

"People could _die_ if we're wrong. My father," Barry said angrily, "your sister."

"So we can't leave out a detail," Len said.

"We can't take that risk," Barry said.

"You'd rather lead the Arrow into a trap? Do you want him to kill us?" Len said, angry. "We're caught between two people that will snap our necks if we betray them."

"Oliver is my _friend,_ Len," Barry said.

"He also has a reputation for shooting criminals full of arrows," Len said sourly.

"Then _what_ is your plan?" Barry demanded.

"I don't _have_ one!" Len snarled, "I have no fucking _idea._ But I'm not playing into the hands of a _madman.”_

Barry jumped off the side of the bed, angry in an unjustified way, taking a few seconds to pace, to pull his fingers through his hair, to take a deep breath so he wouldn’t erupt but it came out too harsh anyway. “We don’t even have a _plan_ and you want to throw what we do have out the window?! Why the hell do you think that’s a good idea, Len?”

Len’s eyes were on him and his voice was cold, not cruel but blunt, when he replied, “because that man will kill everyone we care about if we can’t manage to stay a step ahead of him Barry. And I will _not_ let that happen. So either we strike, or we lose.”

Barry swallowed and stopped pacing. The thing was, Len was _right._ He didn’t even know Wells—Thawne—not like Barry did, and he was right anyway. “What d’you want from me, Len?”

“For now, information. I need to know what you know about the Arrow, and his friends. You took until today to even tell me he works with friends. That information might be life or death here. I case a job for _months_ to be satisfied. We have days—hours, really. I need to know about Oliver Queen, and when we’re done with that, I need to know everything you can tell me about this speedster that you haven’t already. After that, _then_ we can make a plan.”

Barry hated it, the sick feeling in his stomach that felt too much like betrayal. Secrets were _everything_ to Oliver and Barry was about to spill all of his. But… if they all came out of this alive, it might just be worth it.

“Okay.” He blew out a breath and sat down next to Len. “I guess I’ll start with the beginning…I met Oliver the week before I got struck by lightning…”

* * *

  
“What?”  Cisco paused, still holding the door open.  “Oh,” his face suddenly flushed to a bright red, glancing over at the room.  He was holding a bag in his hand, awkwardly, and fumbled to keep it from falling when he stepped back from the door.  “Makes- uh, makes sense.”

“So,” Caitlin felt the heat in her face rising until she was nearly as red and embarrassed as Cisco looked, “you can share with Hal, can’t you?”

“Of course,” Cisco said.  He coughed in his hand.  “Of course.”

Caitlin gently reached for the door.  “Bye then-”

“I didn’t realize you two were _already_ you know,” Cisco said, awkward.  

Caitlin glared at him just as Cisco’s eyes widened in recognition.  “Really?” Caitlin said, angry.  She stepped forward through the door, not even glancing back at Mick on the hospital bed, and shut it behind them so she and Cisco were both in the hallway.  “How long did it take _you_ to make the switch to sleeping in _Lisa’s_ house?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Cisco apologized.

Caitlin paused, took a deep breath to gain back her cool, and sighed.  “I know,” she said, quiet, “I know.”

“Cait,” Cisco said slowly.  He gripped the bag tight to his chest as he spoke.  “I knew you and Ronnie, and I’m not judging you.  I’m not saying ‘don’t’.  I just think you need to be sure… if you’re ready to move on.  And if you are, then move on but,” he said the next words as a whisper, “are you ready?”

Caitlin searched her emotions, trying to come up with the answer to that.  She wasn’t sure.  Her emotions were unrelenting, continuous, a pit of anxiety and loneliness that never seemed to leave.  Mick was… hard to explain.  Comfortable.  And Caitlin hadn’t felt comfortable in four months.  Maybe she made the decision when she took her wedding ring off.  Maybe the decision was a continuous sequence of steps that was going to lead her somewhere, and all she needed to do was edge a little bit forward, inch by inch, until the decision was done.  

She shrugged.

Cisco still looked apprehensive, but he nodded instead.  Caitlin appreciated it, that even though she could tell Barry and Cisco had misgivings (they were terrible liars) her friends still thought through it, and would support her.  

Oh _god,_ what were they even supporting?  Mick Rory _tied her to a bomb_ once.

With Leonard Snart.  Barry seemed to have made it over that hiccup.  And Caitlin had no doubt in her mind that Mick Rory wasn’t going to do it again, that now all Mick wanted was a cure to the same loneliness Caitlin understood.  The others could do it.  So could Caitlin.

She _wanted_ to.  All she’d wanted her whole life was… well, a Ph.D and a high paying exciting job in medicinal research, but the _second_ thing she wanted was a person she could be with, who’d enjoy being by her side and who would keep her safe.  Someone fun, more fun than her.

And how long had it been since she’d seen Ronnie anyway?  And how long since they had even been together?  She hadn’t spent a full twenty-four hours with him since the particle accelerator explosion.  And still she married him.  And still she tried.  Sacrificed.  Played the doting, Mary-Jane to his… Johnny Rocket? Caitlin didn’t know superheroes.  The point sustained.  

Caitlin was sick of trying for someone else.  She wanted… strange and… man if she told herself six months ago she’d be doing this Caitlin would _not_ believe this but… she wanted _Mick._  Of all people.  

“Are you okay?” Cisco said, waving a hand, the other clutched to his bag, “Internal monologue?”

“I…” Caitlin closed her eyes for a long moment and then opened them.  Something inside her felt good, felt smug, impressed with her own decision.  “Do you have a condom?”

Cisco coughed, hard, choking on nothing as his face turned purple.  “Oh…”  He coughed.  Cleared his throat.  Stood up and looked everywhere but at Caitlin.  “Nope.  No.  Lisa’s being held captive by the Reverse Flash so…”

“I’ll ask Barry,” Caitlin decided.  

“Make sure to knock this time,” Cisco joked.  Then grimaced.  “Cause you know.  At the waterpark when we walked in on-”

“No, I understood,” Caitlin said.

“Congratulations…” Cisco said, looking at the floor.  Then the ceiling.  “On uh… on the safe sex.”

“I haven’t even asked Mick yet,” Caitlin said, rolling her eyes.

“He’s gunna say yes,” Cisco said.

“Yeah,” Caitlin nodded.  “Okay, so-”

“Should I uh… give you a hug?”  Cisco wondered.

“I’m going to go now,” Caitlin said.

“Me too.”  Cisco said, and moved away fast enough to make Barry jealous.


	45. Welcome to Queen Mansion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much thanks to RedHead for the editing and encouragement <3

Barry had been so certain it would be difficult to find Oliver.  He’d assumed he’d be running around the city for hours, checking in with Len and the others, searching for a trace of the Arrow.  Maybe using his rarely utilized forensic skills.  

He was almost looking forward to the puzzle, and the delay that searching for Oliver would cause him.

At least he and Len hadn’t gone to sleep angry.  It had been… really good, to talk about things, plan them out together.  Like a team.  Which, they were now.  Barry and Len.  Or Lenny.  Wait.

Barry frowned as he thought of something and turned, keeping his hands above his head, and asked, “Do you like ‘Len’ or ‘Lenny’?”

Len’s hand and opposite forearm were pressed firmly on the back of his skull; he was walking side-by-side with Barry as the unidentified man (seriously, would it kill Oliver’s sentry guards to introduce themselves?) holding the crossbow paced steadily behind them.  “Remember what we talked about?”  Len drawled.

Right.  Barry losing focus on what was actually going around and concentrating instead on his relationship.  “We’re not-” Barry started to say.  Len hummed a low note.  Barry lowered his volume, “we’re not in _danger,_ these men say they work for the Arrow.”

“Hey,” there was a woman walking several paces in front of Barry.  She was holding a bat with crooked nails chipped into it and walking behind Mick, Caitlin, and Cisco.  Mick had been fine when they first had to step out of the RV, right as they entered Starling City through the highway.  Five people armed with apocalyptic themed weapons stopped them, announcing they were something like ‘Star City Border Patrol’.  Barry and the others complied immediately, let the group take their weapons and walk them back to their base of operations where, according to the one with the crossbow, was where the Arrow was.  

Barry waited for the woman to say something besides ‘Hey’, then he noticed she hadn’t been talking to him.  Apparently Mick had stumbled, even while leaning on Caitlin and Cisco, and that’s what she’d been reacting to.

Len’s voice was so low Barry didn’t catch it the first time.  “What?” Barry said, and Len leaned forward, first glancing at the guard behind them, and repeated, “I don’t _trust_ him.”

“Who?”  Barry said.  Len rolled his eyes.  “Oliver?” Barry shook his head in disbelief.  “What-? No.  Oliver is great he’s-”

“A murderer.  Of.  Criminals.”  Len hissed.

It was strange how familiar and yet not familiar this landscape looked.  Barry recalled this area, but had registered it under superspeed, as he ran through Starling City on his way to whatever villain.  Or that time he missed the train for Guitar Hero day.

“He’s made exceptions, he didn’t kill Huntress.  Or Roy.  And there were definitely others,” Barry said, trying to seem sympathetic.  

“So, white people,” Len deadpanned.

Barry had to stifle a laugh, out of pure awkwardness, and wasn’t sure it was appropriate with the subject matter.  “Yeah, but you’re…” Barry started to say, and then he saw a look on Len’s face.   _Oh._  “Right.”

Len narrowed his eyes.  He looked like he was about to say something.  Then the border patrol guy in the front, who had a regular old shotgun, turned right, walking them past a park.  The woman in front of Barry said, with sympathy toward Mick, “Not much farther.”

“Don’t say that Aisha,” a patrol guard on the side said, annoyed.

“Shut the fuck up, Dill,” Aisha said, apparently not having it, “dude’s fucking gunna bleed out, ‘least we can do is be hospitable.  We aren’t monsters.”  Dill didn’t seem pleased by that, but didn’t say anything else.

Behind Barry, Hal Jordan sighed, loud and obnoxious.  “The friendliness of this ‘Arrow’ is behind the power curve, Flashy,” he said, practically yelling even though he was only walking a couple paces behind.

“What?” Barry, and the patrol guy with the crossbow said at the same time.

Hal blinked, and then realized and translated, “Not keeping up with expectations.”  Hal talked weird, Barry decided.  Some sort of pilot slang.  And probably the side-effects of supposedly (Barry was pretty inclined to believe it) being off-planet fighting alien crime.  Which was _such_ a cool thought.

Len stepped slightly closer to Barry, opened his mouth to say something, and the patrol guard behind them cleared his throat.  “Yo,” the man said, “what’s this?”

“Yo,” Barry repeated, friendly.

Len glared at the guard.  “We’re just talking,” he said, “you can see our hands.”

The man snorted, and said, “Yeah, okay.”

 _“Tyler,”_ ‘Dill’, the guard walking on the side chided, angry.

“Dudes are fine,” Tyler said with a shrug.  “I can see their hands.”

“Yeah, he can see their hands, Dill,” Aisha added.

“The fucking dude had a knife _duct taped_ to his leg,” Dill said, the bow and arrow at his side as he waved in Len’s direction.  “Be _careful.”_

The company was still walking, albeit a lot slower.  Honestly, Barry wished he could just run off as the Flash and bring Oliver back, but Len, Caitlin, and Cisco all had said that was a bad idea.  They didn’t know what traps Oliver had set up that Barry could accidentally set off, and if the Arrow ended up being a phony, like Malcolm Merlyn impersonating Ollie, then Barry’d just revealed their trump card.  Instead he had the Flash uniform hidden under t-shirt and jeans looted from a Walmart.  Ironically, the t-shirt had a plagiarized Flash logo.

Barry caught Aisha’s eye, and then said, trying to be as sympathetic as possible, “My boyfriend just wants to see if I’m alright.”

Aisha’s jaw dropped, and she looked and glared at Dill.  “He just wants to talk to his boyfriend, Dill.”

“Yeah,” Tyler said, “don’t be homophobic, Dill.”  

Dill clenched his jaw, grumbling, “Always ganging up on me,” under his breath.  The other two guards just nonchalantly ignored the whole exchange.  

Len walked right beside Barry then, being careful to keep his hand and other arm behind his head.  “You didn’t know,” he said softly.

“About…” Then Barry remembered.  “Oh, I mean I _guessed._  I’ve shaved your head.  You just didn’t bring it up so I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t want to pry.”  Len nodded, looking relieved.  “Your father?  Mother?”

“Mother.  Jamaican,” Len said, “Dad was white trash.”

Barry nodded.  Len didn’t say anything for awhile, and they continued walking.  Up ahead, Barry frowned, narrowing his eyes as he saw something coming closer.  It was confusing it… it wasn’t big enough to be a car though.  “What’s…”

“Figured it wouldn’t bother you, or you knew already,” Len was saying quietly.  Barry was still listening; he was just also staring up ahead trying to figure out what that thing was driving toward them.  “Considering you loved Iris.  Guess I’m not in the habit of saying it in so many words-”

Barry, slightly distracted, lowered his hand to pat the top of Len’s head.  “Love you, though,” he said, staring ahead.  

“Hands behind your head!” Tyler, the border patrol guard, reminded.  Barry took his hand off Len’s head.

“Are you-” Len started to say.

“It’s a golf cart,” Barry realized, grinning brightly.  He looked at Len, smiling.  Len was expressionless looking back.

“That it is,” Len said.

* * *

The golf carts, Aisha explained, were electric powered, there were plenty of them set up around the city for quick transportation to the cars stashed about.  Meant for quick escapes from zombies.  They put Mick in first, Caitlin going with him.  Mick didn’t say anything, but he looked relieved to see he wasn’t going to have to walk any farther.  The rest of the group walked the last portion of the trip to the car, where Mick and Caitlin were waiting.  Mick looked a bit less green after having rested for a little while.

Dill drove.  Hal critiqued the man’s driving from the back of the car but the rest of the group stayed silent.  The number of patrol guards was seven now, since two had come in on the golf cart.  Still not an issue for the Flash, but Barry stayed low.  Hal, Cisco, and Len were pushed with Barry into the back of a minivan.  The man with the weapons put them in a dufflebag in the trunk, and Aisha talked to the yet-to-introduce-himself leader of the group to let them lower their arms.  Most of guards sat backward, or otherwise, with their weapons trained on the prisoners.

“Only twenty miles from CBD,” Aisha said to Caitlin.

Mick sat in the middle of the car, face pressed to the glass.  Caitlin, concerned, managed to ask for a bottle of water.  Aisha got it for her, along with a straw, and Caitlin managed to get Mick to drink some.

“I had painkillers on me,” Caitlin said to the man in the shotgun seat.

He didn’t reply.  And this time, Aisha didn’t defend them.  Which was a pity, Barry thought, looking at Mick’s pale face, obviously pained from putting so much strain on himself so quickly after being shot.  Mick needed rest.

Len was sitting to the right of Barry.  He had to reach across a bit of a distance to hold Barry’s hand with his own.  Len looked out the window, silent.

With Mick in visible pain, Barry’s thoughts went back to everyone at home.  Worry clenched his chest.  He closed his eyes, trying to breathe right and calm himself down.  And that was when his stomach grumbled, loud enough that everyone in the car heard it.

Len’s hand in his own squeezed tightly in comfort.  Barry swallowed down his embarrassment and leaned over, resting his cheek on Len’s shoulder.

* * *

“It’s his house!” Barry realized, sitting up suddenly, forcing himself out of a daydream.  He’d been relaxing on Len, and Len leaning against him, for a moment feeling like an ordinary couple cuddling on a regular afternoon.  But he recognized suddenly the walkway, the tall brick walls up against the road.

“Of course,” Barry said.  The car was still driving around the estate, the house hadn’t even come into view.  “It’s perfect.  There’s plenty of yard for farming.  The house is protected all the way around, tons of security. Probably have a place for horses.  Tons of rooms.  And it’s an old house, probably designed to last in the winter and night so-”

“Where are we?”  Caitlin asked.  Aisha was staring at Barry in surprise.  

“Queen Mansion,” Barry said.

“I almost did a job here once,” Mick grumbled, looking slightly better.  

Caitlin laughed at him, quiet, and placed a comforting hand on his arm.  “It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Caitlin said.

None of the patrol guards said anything to them as they drove up.  At the gate, a woman was standing on top of a plank boarded to the top of the wall.  There was a chair and a cooler beside her, and a rifle across her shoulders.  She was holding a flag, neon yellow, and after a brief conversation with the driver, Dill, she waved the flag as high in the air as she could.  The gate opened, the group drove up to the mansion.

“Alright,” the man in the shotgun seat, the yet-unnamed leader, said, “Aisha and Tyler will take your hurt friend up to the nursery.  We have two doctors.”

Mick coughed, winced in pain, and repeated, “Nursery?”

“It’s uh… it’s the hospital room.  There’s a fireplace and it’s next to the largest bathroom in the house,” the man explained.  “He has to go alone.  The rest of you will need to stay for an interview with John, he’s the first person you need to convince to stay here.  After him, you can see the Arrow.”

“Mick isn’t going anywhere alone,” Len said.

“He needs painkillers,” Caitlin said, fiercely.  

“Nah, I know, I know,” Mick mumbled, “I can last another hour.  ‘S fine, Cait.”  Caitlin frowned but didn’t contradict Mick’s decision to stay with the group.

The guards got out of the car first, kept their weapons trained on the group as they filed out after.  Len stumbled getting out of the car, reached for a hold with his stump hand by mistake.  Barry saw it, and flashed forward, grabbing Len’s arm before he fell.  Barry helped Len out of the car after that, and Len surprisingly didn’t say a word.

The mansion almost looked like a castle.  Though the formerly pristine grass and manicured bushes were overgrown now, and plenty of the grass had brown patches like the land was being gardened, it still had the air of expansive elegance.  They stood under the brick canopy by the entrance, two solid, powerful doors that were far beyond height level.  The building was fashioned of bricks and stone, built to last and stand the test of time, and Barry suddenly felt envious; Oliver’s childhood home was his safe place in the apocalypse.  

“Most groups are begging us for information about the interview by now,” Aisha said, observing their silence.  

“I think we’ll be fine,” Barry said to her.  Aisha shrugged, as if to say ‘that’s your choice’.  When they were all out of the car, the other guard without a name walked into the front seat and drove the car off.  

A breeze passed by, and Barry suddenly shivered.  It was still cold, no longer winter but the air was chilly enough that Barry wished he had a thick coat- oh.  Damn.  “Len,” Barry whispered, “was your parka in the house?”  Len nodded, unconcerned.  “I’m sorry,” Barry said.  Len didn’t say anything, but his expression seemed to soften and he nodded again.

One of the doors opened, with apparently a great deal of effort.  The door screeched like there was an unexpected amount of weight on the other side, and when it opened Barry could see planks boarded to it, with an unlocked chain dragging on the floor after.  A woman stepped through, thin but healthy seeming, her blonde hair cut short and glasses falling to the bridge of her nose as she gazed at a clipboard in her hand.

“Diggle’s with his wife, baby has a cough but seems fine.  Sorry.  My name is,” she started to say.

Barry interrupted, grinning broadly.   _“Felicity.”_

Felicity looked up, eyes widening.  Her eyes went to Barry immediately, then Caitlin and Cisco.  “Whoa.”

* * *

After that, Aisha and Caitlin managed to convince Mick to go up with them to the infirmary.  The others stayed with Felicity.  They talked first, Barry a bit annoyed but still happy to assure yet another one of his friends that he was definitely _‘not_ dead’, and Cisco and Felicity having a long, rapid fire conversation about the generators in Queen Mansion and their sustainability.  

Then Felicity shook her head, like coming out of a fog, and said loudly, “Dill! Get Ollie! He’s going to want to meet these guys.  Friends.  So… Tour?”

There were about seventy citizens of Starling housed in the mansion, the rooms had mostly been given to families with small children, a significant number slept in what Felicity called the ‘Main Hall’, which had a large fireplace in the middle and cots set up all around it.  A nearby mansion had the same layout, though not all Starling citizens had come to the mansions, many still lived in their boarded out homes, shelters, or an abbey about forty miles from there.  Felicity had it all set up on a map.  

Hal, as soon as they’d walked into the kitchen, asked about alcohol.  Cisco was more interested in the lighting, the working kitchen, and the basement generators.  Len hadn’t said a word yet, walking close to Barry’s side.

Felicity, with a bright smile and excited hitch in her step, brought them down to the basement to look at the generators and the wine cellar, which had become storage for canned foods, gasoline, and tanks of water as well.  IT was a wide, flat room, the lighting was yellow and fairly dark, and the cold air was frigid here, Barry could almost see his breath.  “At first, just Team Arrow took supply ventures,” Felicity told them, “but we trained any willing team members and now we have this…” She shrugged, “really, really complicated shift schedule set up.  We still get groups of zombies coming through, sometimes in groups as big as thirty, but the raiders are normally the big problem.  We have walkie talkies, using rechargeable batteries.”

“The generators look like they’ve been modded,” Cisco noticed.

Felicity grinned.  “Yep,” she said.  “Me, Donald, and Curtis.  You’ll love Curtis, he’s brill _iant_. Anyway, the generators were ancient and we wanted to keep the gas going as long as possible even though we have a whole city of supplies, so we figured out how to cut consumption by almost half with pretty minimal changes to power usage.”

“You got showers?” Len asked, first thing he said.

Felicity held her pencil out, thinking.  “Um, _yes._  But the power consumption is pretty intense, we’ve asked people to take baths if they can manage.  There’s a lake.  Nearby.  We’re hoping when it thaws a little more people will go out.  Currently only teenagers do and they’re always daring each other.  This house is colder than the outside, all the bricks and such.  Everyone’s looking forward to the summer.  ‘Cept…” She blinked at Len, and then said cautiously, “You’re Captain Cold.  Right?”

“Guilty,” Len said.

“Huh.”  Felicity looked at Cisco, Barry, and Hal.  She paused.  “Well, okay.  Barry vouches for you… uh… you _do_ vouch for him?”

“Yeah,” Barry laughed.  “Definitely.”

“So,” Cisco started to say, when the basement doors opened.  

Oliver walked down the steps first without saying a word.  He was wearing dark clothes, reminiscent of his Arrow uniform, and a dark green jacket over them.  He reached the bottom, and with a tense smile went to Barry and extended his hand.  A strange look passed over Oliver’s face, and he observed, “It’s really you.”

Barry took it, smiling brightly.  “Oliver,” Barry said.

Oliver clasped Barry’s hand tightly.  “Barry.  Good to see you alive.”  Oliver’s hands went to clasp Barry’s shoulders, friendly, a real smile on his face that instantly became more business-like as he turned to the others.  

“Same to you!” Cisco said.  Oliver shook his hand too.  

“Cisco Ramon,” Oliver said, “we could have used your tech expertise not too long ago.  We were setting up motion detection cameras around Starling’s main roads.”

“That’s how your people found us so fast,” Hal said, nodded.  He reached out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation Oliver took it.  “Hal Jordan, Green Lantern.”

“From the radio?” Felicity said, curious.  Hal nodded.

“Oliver Queen,” Oliver said, much more reserved, his eyes suddenly sharp, studying Hal, “the Arrow.  Can’t say I’ve heard of your alias before.”

“Carol and I have been working far, far away,” Hal said with a cheeky grin.

Len stepped forward, hand extended.

Oliver saw him, face suddenly hard.  He looked at Len, careful, sizing him up, and then with a stern glare, he reached out and took Len’s hand to shake, momentarily glancing at the bandages around Len’s other hand.  “Leonard Snart,” Oliver said.

“Charmed,” Len replied.

“Mick Rory is upstairs,” Oliver said.

“He was shot,” Len said calmly.

“Where’s the rest of your crew?” Oliver asked.

“Back in Central,” Len said.

Felicity’s hand went to her chest.  “Oh god.   _Good._  I was… is everyone okay?  I wasn’t sure if I should ask.”

 _‘Okay’._  Barry thought, a lump in his throat.   _Not quite_.  “Everyone’s alive,” Barry said, settling on the half-truth, “Iris, Eddie, Joe, and Lisa and the… our friends.  My father too.  We left them back there.”

“Defending the home base,” Len added.

Barry nodded.  “Yeah.  We had some… um…”

“Trouble in the past,” Len replied.  “Felt it necessary to keep our food stores and home protected.”

 _Home._  The thought was bitter, conjuring not the image of Barry’s home before the apocalypse but the temporary place he’d shared with the Rogues.  Something gone forever now, burned to the ground by Eobard.  He swallowed.  It would be fine.  It had to be.  Once he and Len were alone with Oliver they’d be able to figure out a plan.

Oliver looked from Len to Barry, eyes narrowed.  “Been traveling together long?”  He asked, and then turned his head to Barry.  He didn’t say anything.

“Were you bit?” Felicity asked suddenly.  Then she winced.  “Oh.  Sorry.  Probably a sensitive subject.  It’s just…” She looked at Oliver for assistance.

“We’ve had people come in with similar injuries,” Oliver gestured to Len’s missing hand, “sometimes, if the appendage wasn’t caught fast enough, they’ll turn.  Is that recent?”

“Fairly old,” Len answered, “it’s mostly healed by now.”

“Still we… do you mind if our doctors have a look?”  Felicity asked.

“No,” Len answered.

“So,” Felicity asked, with a nervous laugh, “do you go by ‘Cold’?”

“Sure,” Len said.

“If you want to feed his ego,” Hal mumbled.

Cisco looked concerned, and said to Felicity, “Did everyone in Team Arrow make it out?”

Felicity grinned at Oliver, “See, I’m _not_ the only one who says that.”  And then said to Cisco, “Yep.  Diggle got his whole family out.  Roy and Thea normally stay in the other mansion with Laurel, Laurel’s in charge there.”

“I radio’d for them to come,” Oliver said, “they’ll want to see you.”

Felicity nodded.  “Firestorm comes and goes.”

Len turned sharply to Barry, giving him a look.  Concern.  Barry nodded.   _Firestorm,_ he thought, thinking of Caitlin and Mick upstairs.

“Is he… Martin and Ronnie, are they here now?”  Barry asked.

“Coming back tonight,” Oliver answered, not missing the exchange with Barry and Len but he didn’t bring it up.  “He’s been on a big of a personal quest, eradicating Starling of the walkers after he took care of Central for the most part.  He was in Metropolis last I heard, but radio’d back that he was leaving it in some capable hands he found.”

Felicity said, voice more subdued, “Clarissa didn’t make it.”

 _Clarissa,_ Barry said, remembering with a pang of sadness in his chest.   _Martin Stein’s wife._

“We can have one of our people escort Snart to the nursery,” Oliver said, “Felicity can show Cisco and Mr. Jordan to the kitchen, get you two a bite to eat.”  He nodded at Barry.  “I’d like to speak with you alone.”

Len stiffened, barely noticeable to anyone but Barry could practically sense it.  Barry knew Len didn’t trust Oliver, even if Barry knew better.

“I’d like to go with Len,” Barry said, because he actually did.  It had been a while since Caitlin had checked Len’s wound, he wanted to hear what the other doctors here had to say too.  And Barry felt like he needed to warn Caitlin and Mick, if they didn’t know about Firestorm already.  

“Aha,” Felicity said, a little triumphant, “ ‘Len’?” Oliver gave her a warning glance.

Barry swallowed, looking at Felicity and suddenly feeling heat rising up to his face in a painful blush.  He wasn’t even sure what exactly he was embarrassed about, or- well no, he did know.  It was admitting he wasn’t with Iris, coming out, and introducing Len all at the same time, the prospect was daunting and just… nothing he’d ever considered admitting.  Because it… these people saw him as their partner, as the _Flash._  Or actually, yes, it was confusing.  It was just a mess of things.

“Then up we go,” Oliver said.  His eyes barely moved, probably not fast for anyone but Barry to catch, but they flickered with a harsh look down to the gun at the empty gun holster at his side, where the cold gun usually sat. Barry had promised him that he wouldn’t let the gun be separated from Len’s side for long, though they both knew they’d have to be willing to drop any weapons at first.”  It wasn’t until then that Barry noticed the quiver and bow strapped to Oliver’s back.  Normally, he was pretty used to seeing Oliver dressed like that, but Barry wondered if Oliver actually wore that around inside this house or if he’d brought it out to greet them.  Oliver nodded at Barry, and then indicated toward the stairs.

Len moved up first, which was when Barry realized that’s what they were supposed to do.

They went up the stairs and out into the hallway, which was mostly empty.  There was art on the walls, though any other decorations had been removed.  Oliver walked briskly, moving at that pace he seemed to think was normal but which even Barry could tell was fast.  Barry didn’t have trouble matching the speed, but he sent a concerned look at Len.  If Len was bothered, he wasn’t showing it.

“How long have you been here?” Barry asked.  The route they were taking was the same way they’d come in.  

“Two months,” Oliver replied.  “Do you know the date?”

Barry paused.  “What?”

“The date.  Most people who come in haven’t been keeping track and it tends to be one of the first questions they ask,” Oliver explained.  They were at the main entrance and Oliver walked up the stairs.

“You know what day it is?” Barry asked, excited.

“No,” Oliver said.  “Powerlines went down, devices didn't charge.  Something screwed with anything battery operated so pretty much everyone we've met with a watch, convinced they had the right time, has something different from the next person.  Felicity’s working on a way to derive it from the stars, apparently, but if we get the o’k from London it won’t matter.”

“London?” Len asked.

“We’re trying to get in contact with foreign aid, anything over the ocean wasn’t hit,” Oliver said, matter-of-fact.

“Yeah, we caught some raiders working with the zombies to get on a plane,” Barry said.

Oliver hesitated at the top of the stairs, looking sharply at Barry with a note of alarm.  “That’s… not good.”

“It wasn’t a pleasant experience,” Len said, calm, “got a little out of hand, but we managed.”  Barry rolled his eyes, but they were already moving through the hallway so he let it go.  

“It’s good to see you,” Barry said, taking a few quick steps so he was walking beside Oliver.  “We should probably catch up.”

“Later,” Oliver said, stiff.

“There’s something important we need to talk about,” Barry told him.

“Speaking of,” Len said, reaching for Barry’s shoulder.  He pulled Barry to a stop, nodding his head to the far wall for them to go to the other side of the hallway to speak.  Oliver didn’t seem to indicate whether he cared about being interrupted but he caught Barry’s eye and nodded slightly, face neutral, moving out of hearing distance but close enough to keep an eye on them.

“What’s up?”  Barry asked, lowering his voice.

“I,” Len gave Oliver a glance but then looked at Barry, “I know Mick.  I think you do too.  He’s…”

“You don’t think he’ll do anything to Ronnie,” Barry whispered.

Len shrugged.  Apparently that wasn’t of interest to him.  “He’s _happier,”_ Len said, softly.  

That, well Barry had obviously noticed.  “Caitlin too, but it’s Ronnie,” Barry said, “her husband.”

“Not really our place to judge,” Len said.

Barry looked at Oliver.  “Should we tell him now?”

“Mick?”

“No, Oliver,” Barry said.  “About everything.”   He saw Len’s jaw clench, and added, “Oliver’s a friend, Len.  I trust him.”

“I want to wait until he gets to know us.  If Mick showed up saying he wanted to lead my group into a trap, I’d lock him up or worse,” Len mumbled, “I want you to make nice to him first, make it clear you haven’t changed and we’re not a threat.”

Barry wasn’t sure how he felt about that, most of him just wanted to… start everything, be heading back as soon as possible, patience wasn’t the most appealing thing at the moment.  He took a deep breath.  “Okay.”

“I want to talk to Mick privately,” Len said, quiet, “want to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.  You should tell Caitlin, let it sink in, let her make the choice of what she really wants.”

“Yeah,” Barry said.  He lifted his hands to his head, rubbing against his temples.  “Okay.  I will.”

Len tilted his head, looked at Barry carefully, and said at a normal volume, “Felicity is pretty.”

Oliver looked up at them, glaring.  “Nursery is the last room on the right,” he called, crossing his arms.

 _Felicity is pretty?_ Barry thought, confused.  He frowned at Len.  Len walked past, nonchalant, hand tensed slightly as he walked by Oliver.  Barry sighed.  He moved to follow Len, and as he walked past Oliver reached for his arm.

“Should I keep him away from her?” Oliver asked, voice gravelly.

Barry blinked.  “Wh- Len?”

“Snart,” Oliver said with a nod.

Barry’s eyes widened.  “Oh, because of the- no, no he’s just,” Barry felt heat rising in his face, “he’s just- I don’t know what that was.  He’s gay.”

Oliver nodded, not a change in his face but he seemed to accept that.  “You trust him and Rory?” He asked, concerned, and added with a hushed but intense voice, “I can get people to watch them.  They wont notice it, I can guarantee that.”

“They’re fine, they saved me, and they,” Barry swallowed, felt a bit like he was ranting, and fumbled with his hands as he added, “With me.  Len.  He’s with me.”

“Rory was shot,” Oliver said.

“In a fight, not- not with us.  I definitely, trust-” Barry added, “he’s my boyfriend.  Len.”

Oliver’s face stayed impassive, but his eyes opened just a bit with surprise.  “Snart?”

Barry’s stomach dropped.  “Yes.  Yeah, me and him.”  He stared.

“Alright,” Oliver said.  Stiff, he reached out and patted Barry’s shoulder once.  “I won’t tail him.”  Barry didn't quite believe that.

“Thanks,” Barry said.  His stomach felt a bit better, crushing weight abating.  

“Felicity and I are together now,” Oliver told him.  

“Oh,” Barry said, “that’s good! I- I know she liked you.”

“It’s going well,” Oliver told him, the corners of his mouth slightly turning up.  Barry looked at that and found himself smiling too.  Oliver suddenly snorted, probably the closest _Oliver_ ever got to outright laughter.  “You always surprise me,” Oliver said.

“Me?” Barry asked.

“You,” Oliver said.  He took a breath, let it out, and said, “We can have dinner together.  I need to be caught up on your situation.”

“‘Situation’,” Barry repeated.

“It can wait until then,” Oliver told him. He stepped away, gestured to the nursery, and continued, “I won’t keep you.”

* * *

There were several beds, raised up on stretchers around the sides of the room.  It was an old room, barely looked like a nursery except for the cartoon figures carved into the large fireplace on the far wall.  Only two other patients were there, a young girl with a fever on the bed by a window and her mother, and there was a doctor in the middle of the room, talking with Len and Caitlin.  Mick was lying on one of the beds, his shirt off and fresh bandages around his middle.

“Barry,” Len said.  He took a step over to the closest bed, hopping up on it.  He pulled off his coat, and Barry without thinking stepped forward and helped Len out of it.  Caitlin stepped forward first to take off the bandages.  “Barry,” Len said again.  

“Caitlin, can we talk for a second?” Barry said.

Caitlin gave him a look.  “Alright,” she said, nodding to the other doctor who seemed relieved to be given the opportunity to work.  Caitlin walked over to Mick first, who sat up.  She leaned down, kissed him on the cheek, and Mick squeezed her arm.  “Back in a second,” Caitlin said, and Mick nodded.  “What’s up?” Caitlin asked.

Barry took a deep breath.  “Let’s step outside,” he said, though he wanted to be back to see how Len was doing.  He wasn’t sure if the timing was just because Len didn’t want him to see, but Barry didn’t want to make Caitlin wait.


	46. A Night in Starling City

Barry had only just turned back around to ask Len if he thought Felicity would be back soon when he saw the movement of something falling.  His vision slowed, heart rate sped up, and before he could entirely register it Barry was running forward to grab it.  He stopped, holding a vase with dark black figures etched on it, and glared at Len. “You almost dropped this,” Barry said.  He held the vase carefully, knowing he wasn’t the most coordinated person himself, and put it back on the decorative table.

“I have one hand, you caught it, it’s fine,” Len dismissed.

They were in Oliver’s room, which wasn’t at all like Barry’d traditional idea of a ‘room’ and more like an artisan’s loft, the room had its own living room, and table for eating, and the bed was far off in the corner on a loft.  It had likely originally been designed with lots of spare room in the layout, although currently was tastefully and cozily decorated which Barry assumed was Felicity’s handiwork.  The table was set with four places, and Felicity had brought them upstairs after the bath and left a few minutes ago to get some food and Oliver.  

Len immediately took just a step to the side, and lifted a painting off its hook on the wall.  “How much do you think this is worth?”  He wondered aloud.  

“Stop touching things,” Barry said, nervous.

“You’ll  catch it if I drop it,” Len said, confident, as he turned the painting over and inspected the back of the frame.  

“I am not going to follow you around to make sure you don’t drop anything,” Barry said, holding his hands out for the painting.  Len gave it to him, and Barry tried to put it back on the wall, but the nail it had been hanging on was thin and he couldn’t quite get it back.  Barry leaned it against the wall instead.  “No more,” touching anything, Barry started to say, except Len was now holding some glass figurine of a centaur.  “Put it down.”

“Maybe  a couple thousand for this,” Len said, “I think it’s antique. Pity.”

Barry carefully walked up beside Len, palms out, waiting for Len to fumble the object or set it down.  “What’s a pity?”

“If this wasn’t the apocalypse, I could have made off with a fortune of this junk,” Len said to himself.

Barry slowly took the glass figurine out of Len’s hand.  “You are not stealing from the Arrow, Len.”

“I would have,” Len said, matter-of-fact .

Barry didn’t doubt it, though he didn’t like the idea in his head.  At least Len wasn’t going to- “Don’t take anything,” Barry said seriously.

“I won’t,” Len told him, and then added, “unless we could use it.”

“No,” Barry said.

Len continued snooping around the room, giving Barry the occasional glance back, being contrary just for the sake of it.  “Maybe our next house needs a ship in a bottle,” Len said, touching the side of another glass decoration.

“We do _not,”_ Barry said, with gritted teeth.  He walked to the table and sat down, looking at the door while waiting.  His stomach chose that moment to growl, and Barry sighed, wrapped his arms around his stomach and wished he could make time go faster instead of slower.  

“You should run to the kitchen, grab something for you to eat.  You’re fast enough no one would notice,” Len said, casual.  He was at a window and ran his hand down the curtains.  “Silk,” he said, screwing up his nose like he smelled something gross.

“They’re bringing food up for us,” Barry said.

“Might be awhile,” Len said.

“Hm?”

“I can see Queen outside,” Len said.  “Bunch of walkers, too.”

Barry was at Len’s side in a flash, hand pressed against the window to process what he was seeing.  He breathed a sigh of relief almost instantly.  “It’s a training ground,” Barry said.  There were about fifteen zombies inside a tight metal fence, with razor wire across the top, and barbed wire over a gate that Oliver and two others were shutting.  “It looks secure,” Barry said.

“Can’t be that safe to keep walkers inside the mansion walls,” Len mumbled.

“The backyard is fenced in on its own, and I’m sure they have a guard watching it when no one’s around,” Barry said.

“Reminds me of that DeVoe bastard,” Len said, eyes narrowed.

Barry reached over and took Len’s hand in his.  “Oliver is a friend, Len, he won’t hurt any of us,” he promised.

Len tilted his head, frowned at Barry for several long seconds, and then pulled him close, pressing his mouth against Barry’s cheek.  Barry let Len hold him for a while, but then moved just enough away to kiss Len on the lips.  The kiss was short; then Len pressed his forehead against Barry’s and kept them close together.  “Love you,” Len mumbled.

“Love you too,” Barry said, giving Len’s arm a reassuring grip.  

“I don’t trust them,” Len said.

Barry gave him a smile.  “A couple months ago, I had to trust some criminals to keep me warm when they fished me out of a snowstorm.  That worked out.”

Len snorted.  “Sure, compare those.”  But Barry did see that Len was less restless  after that, and it was a good thing since a few moments later Felicity opened the door without a warning.  

“Guess what I have convinced Mr. Stingy to let us drink,” Felicity said with a wide smile as she held a bottle of wine carefully, practically cradled against her side.  

Barry faked excitement as best as he could just to be politce.  Oliver was carrying, of all things, a genuine wicker basket  with a checkered tablecloth over it.  He set it in the middle of the table and wordlessly gestured for Len and Barry to sit.

Oliver pulled out a chair for Felicity, who took a moment pouring everyone a glass of wine before sitting down.  “If it was any other day I could have prepared something myself,” Oliver said, with a gesture to the basket, “but I’m sure you’ll like what we have.”  As long as it was food, Barry really didn’t care.  “There’s bread, cheese, no meat however since Curtis and Felicity haven’t been able to figure if the undead virus can be carried through animals , but we have nice vegetables that were heated in a bag, and rice and beans for protein.”

Barry was so hungry, could they just open the basket already?

“You keep walkers pretty close to the house,” Len said as he sat down.

Oliver nodded, his face visibly more tense when he looked at Len than Barry or Felicity.  “It’s important to train everyone to face the creatures without fear, we’re faster and smarter and have tools—they can’t win if we face them head on.”

“They have tricks of their own,” Len said, setting his elbows on the table.  His right hand rested under his chin, leaning on support from the end of his left wrist, emphasizing the missing hand.  

Felicity whistled through her teeth, and then took a sip of wine.  “Ugh, that’s good.”

Barry realized he was going to be forced to drink an entire glass of some potent, fermented wine to be polite.  Which, if he could get drunk or even buzzed, would have been great, though without the happy effects, drinking wine was like drinking expired juice mixed with medicine .  “For the most part though,” Barry said, jumping in, “we’ve held off the zombies fine.  It’s been other people more of the time who are the problem.”

Oliver took the checked tablecloth off the basket.   _Finally,_ Barry thought, and he didn’t hesitate an instance before reaching in, finding a beautiful looking, fresh-made bread roll, and eating it.  It was fast enough that it lasted only the length of time it took Oliver to blink, though everyone still noticed.  Len was grinning at him .  

“So…” Barry said, feeling blood rising to his face.  His hunger pains were barely sated.  

“Can I see your hand?” Len asked Felicity.  Barry gave him a questioning look.  

“Oh, sure,” Felicity said, with a shrug.  She reached across the table to show Len her hand, Len held it, just for a moment.  

“Nail polish?” Len asked.  

“Oh,” Felicity took her hand back with an awkward laugh, “some of the younger girls, the ones who, you know, aren’t old enough to study defending themselves, are running a beauty shop, it makes them feel useful and busy and gives them an alternative to working the kitchen.  It’s nice.”  She smiled down at her hand for a second.  “It’s one of those nice things that reminds me of home.  Mine are a little chipped.”

“Do you think I could get a bottle to take back for my sister?”  Len asked.

“Sure, yes,” Felicity said, happily, “we could give you more than one, we have _plenty._  I can ask one of the girls to give you a whole box.”

“Thank you,” Len said with a nod.

“How is everyone?” Oliver asked, specifically to Barry.

Barry was about to reply, regarding Iris and Shawna’s pregnancy, maybe make small talk about his friends and the criminals getting along, when Len coughed into his hand and gave him a careful look.  “Now?” Barry asked.

Len leaned forward, set down his drink, and said calmly, “There’s more to our being here.”

“Is that…” Felicity looked at Oliver.  “Does that sound ominous to you or is it just me?”

Oliver looked at Len for a moment before he went back to Barry .  “What’s this about?”

“So we have a plan to get rid of the walkers forever, but it’s not really our plan?” Barry said, hesitating.  “Well, like, it’s uh… so the Reverse Flash is alive.”

“Goddammit, more supervillains?” Felicity said, with a knowing glance to Oliver.

“Felicity,” Oliver said, as if reminding her of something.  She looked at him and Oliver coughed to cover up a smile, resuming what he was saying.  “What trouble are you in?”

“Oh!” Felicity apologized to Len, “Sorry.”

Len looked confused.

“So the plan is, well, I think it’s as good as it gets,” Barry said.

“It’s a horrible plan,” Len corrected, “it’s an outline.  Not a plan.”

“I mean,” Barry looked at Len, before shaking his head and continuing, “Grodd is a zombie, but he has enough of his powers left to keep a hold of his mind and communicate to the Black Hand.”

“Grodd?” Oliver asked.

“Talking monkey, it’s worse than it sounds,” Len said.

“He’s a giant telepathic _gorilla,”_ Barry corrected, adding in his head, _and he’s terrifying_.  It was just Barry's luck one of his enemies was a gorilla, he had never liked them.  “The Reverse Flash has a connection to him, so he plans to use Grodd to bring the Black Hand to us, where he’d force us all to fight to defeat him so Eobard can gain the Black Hand’s powers.”

“Someone faster than you with the power to control the dead?” Felicity said, eyes widening.  “That’s terrifying.  Left 4 Dead level terrifying.  Would the zombies get faster?  I do not want fast zombies.”  Oliver rested his hand on Felicity’s arm, and she took a deep breath to calm herself.

“It does seem to be the only way we could find the Black Hand,” Oliver said, “the resources left to us are limited”

“The other continents have set up a huge firewall ,” Felicity said, “so we can’t get information back to them or vice versa.  We’ve been communicating to London through a Facebook app, actually, the only thing that’s been able to work.”

Barry stared for a moment, blank as the reality of the statement processed.  “We… we’re going through the apocalypse, and other continents still use _Facebook?”_

“Uh… yeah,” Felicity said, “they run stories about what’s happened but most people over there have already written the Americas off.  There are some groups protesting, trying to get support out here and manage refugee systems, that’s who we’re talking to now.”

“I’m still not clear on this,” Oliver said, “your team is working with the Reverse Flash?”

“No,” Len said, “he had his own team, Huntress, Boomerang, they went for a cheap shot and got us while we slept.  Everyone he didn’t send here, to trick you into sending your best people to join his fight, is being held captive to make sure we return.”

“Oh,” Felicity said, eyes wide and sad.  “I’m so sorry.”

"Okay," Barry said, looking at the food with longing as he set his fork down , "let me explain."

* * *

As they started to leave, Oliver offering to show Len where the rest of the group would be sleeping, Felicity stopped Barry. "Do you mind if we take a walk?" Felicity asked.

_It's late,_ Barry thought, it was getting pretty dark outside, but he nodded. "Sure."

"I can show you the room when we get back," Felicity said, walking out of the door before the others.

Barry gave Len a shrug and a smile, while Len arched an eyebrow but didn’t question it as Barry followed her. Felicity led him to the kitchen, which was cleaner than Barry expected, cabinets all open as they were too full to shut, and smelled heavily of disinfectant wipes. Felicity saw Barry's hand jump to his nose.

"Yeah," Felicity said, "we air it out after they clean it."  There was a closet by the door, and she opened it and took out a coat from a hanger, then pulled a box from the floor over and took a hat and gloves.

Barry looked in the closet, was reaching for a regular black coat when he paused. There was a large coat, with faux fur on the hood. It was a light blue color, close to Barry, or _Len's_ size, and Barry took it. "Can I keep this?" Barry asked, looking at the parka .

"Hm? Yeah, you can," Felicity said she looked at the coat, and then chuckled. "Right. Cold guy."

Barry pulled the coat on and followed her outside.

It was dark outside, but the moment they were out there the darkness was less oppressive than it had seemed from in the mansion. The stars were extremely bright up above, and the moon gave them plenty of grayish-white light to see by . The backyard was separated from the rest by the same large wall, and at a few places along the wall were stations, three that Barry could see. The stations were a crudely built wooden platform where a lookout sat, with what looked like candles beside them.

Felicity started walked along what seemed like a well- worn path from the door around the edge of the compound. "The _cold_ guy?" Felicity repeated.

"He's not as, he's better than he seems," Barry said.

"If I knew you liked guys too, I could have-" Felicity started to say, then stopped. "Actually, the only guys I could've set you up with were Curtis, who's married, and this exorcist."

Barry's eyes widened. "You know an _exorcist?"_

"Technically, Oliver does, not me," Felicity said. She sighed. "Sometimes I think I understand what happened to him on that island but there's always more ."

"Did he say if he's met ghosts?" Barry asked.

"I didn't ask, but that'd be-" Felicity started to laugh, and then stopped, "you believe in ghosts?"

"No," Barry said, too quickly.

Felicity gave him a look like she didn’t believe he was telling the truth, which was fair.  If Felicity had been Cisco, Barry probably would have gone on a long rant about proof he’d gathered on his blog  a long time ago, but things felt a little weird, and Barry didn’t feel like opening up another debate about the supernatural.  

Felicity didn’t pursue it and they walked along the edge of the wall, on the hard packed dirt of the path over the browning spring grass.  Barry was sure the lawn of this mansion used to be perfectly manicured, but now the entire place seemed to have much more personality.  The house too, almost every inch of the house was lit, with electricity, candles, or battery operated candles and the like, and there was a constant buzz of energy from all the people living in there.  It made the stoic old monolith feel lived in, even cozy.  Barry wondered if anyone was living in the Rathaway  mansion, and if Hartley would be willing the move the group there- if they all survived.

Barry wondered how often people used this path, and was going to ask just as a young woman came into view, walking the other direction.  Felicity waved and said hello, and the young woman nodded, yawning to herself, as she comforted a fussing baby in her arms.  

Felicity stuffed her hands in her coat, hummed under her breath, and started to say, “How-?” before changing her mind.  “Shoot.  I should have introduced you,” Felicity said to herself.

“It’s fine,” Barry told her.

“That’s Hannah,” Felicity said, “you should really meet her.  She’s great.  She and her wife took the baby in when his mother, Martha, died downtown in an accident, before they came here .  Sam and her are running a family support group, people talking about how soon children should be trained to fight, how to get them proper education, how to protect them, that sort of thing.”

Barry stared.  “Are you- are you trying to get me to adopt a baby?”

“What! No-” Felicity shook her head fiercely.

“It’s just that they’re gay?” Barry guessed.

“Lesbian.  Yeah.  Uh…”  Felicity blushed, bright enough that even with the limited light outside Barry could see the difference.  “But they’re nice people.”

“Iris and Eddie would probably be interested,” Barry said, ignoring the stab of worry from saying their names, “I don’t think Shawna or Mark would.”

“Right.”  Felicity swallowed.  “Do you want to though?”

“What?”

“Orphans?  We have about nine.  If you want, I mean, maybe later.  I don’t know about ice guy, but you I know.  It’s just,” Felicity barely seemed to breathe, “there are so many and Oliver is always visiting to talk to them and see how they’re doing and I’m worried one day he’s going to insist we adopt them all out of self-righteousness and then I’m going to be the dick who doesn’t want to adopt nine orphans .”

“Whoa,” Barry blinked at her.  “I mean…”

“Oh balls,” Felicity said.  

“Balls?” Barry said, grinning at her.

_“Balls,”_ Felicity repeated, angrily, “it’s the apocalypse, I will say _balls_ if I want to say it.”  She sighed and started walking again, Barry moved beside her.  It wasn’t too long after they saw another person walking along the path, an older man with a slow moving Labrador  walking beside him.  Felicity nodded, the old man ignored her.  “I’m just the dick who doesn’t want to adopt nine orphans.”

“Has Oliver told you he wants to adopt nine orphans?”  

“No,” Felicity said, annoyed, “but I _know_ his savior-complex is going to kick in eventually.”

“You can always tell him you’re not ready yet?” Barry asked.

“And then I’m the di- awful person who doesn’t want to save the orphans.”  Felicity groaned.  “Why am I talking about this?  I wanted to talk about you.”

“I don’t mind,” Barry told her, “what you guys have here is the closest thing to a ‘normal’ I’ve ever seen.”

“You should see Dill Hamford’s room,” Felicity said with a snort, “the guy barters porn magazines.”  Barry wasn’t sure what face he made at that, some weird mix of confusion and disgust and morbid curiosity, but Felicity looked at him and laughed loud enough she had to clutch onto her jacket.  “Not that you,” Felicity said, gasping a bit for breath, “need it.  Not with a prime cut of bad boy model meat .”  

Barry had no idea what to say to that.

Felicity winced.  “Oh that one was bad,” she said, gritting her teeth, “oh crap.  I meant- I meant he’s good looking.  The ice man.  Captain Chilly.  Mr. Freeze.”  She said the names like she was trying to change the subject, Barry obliged.  He knew too well the awkwardness of foot-in-the-mouth syndrome.

“Just call him Len,” Barry said, and he laughed.  “His gun changed the speed of the atoms it points at, reducing them to absolute zero, the state of complete atomic rest.  He doesn’t shoot ice with the gun .”

“Doctor Zero ,” Felicity tried.

“I think that’s a soda.”  Barry looked up at the stars, the constellations he recognized and those he didn’t.  He found six little dippers, one big dipper, and a couple more obscure ones that he actually thought were correct.  “Do you think we can actually do it?”

“Beat the Reverse Flash?  You’ve all done it before,” Felicity said, calming, “sure, this time he has a friend or two, but this time so do you.  Plus, you’ve got Mr. Absolute Zero.  His power is the main weakness to speedsters.  Your Achilles heel, so to speak.  And you managed to seduce him, so four for you .”

“Do you think we can beat him without anyone being hurt?”  Barry asked.

“If anyone can, it’ll be all of you,” Felicity promised.  “Oliver’s plan is good.  It’s smart.  Like he said.”

“I trust him,” Barry said, meaning it.  

“He trusts you,” Felicity said, “otherwise he wouldn’t be sending us all into the frying pan.  To fight all the bad guys, save the world from zombies, hero stuff.”

“We weren’t able to stop him last time,” Barry said, “and that was just the Black Hand.  Now if we don’t stop the Reverse Flash fast enough, we’ll have all of them at once.”

“Barry,” Felicity reached out to take Barry’s hand, “all of us are in this too.  We’re all fighting together.  I think, at least hope, it’ll be different this time.”

“Everyone is risking their lives,” Barry said.

“Everyone is fighting for their lives,” Felicity countered.

Barry smiled.  “Thank you.”

“Good, now,” Felicity looked back at the path where they’d come, “it’s freezing.  Let’s start heading back inside- and don’t you leave me out here.”

Barry chuckled.  “I won’t.”

“You could,” Felicity teased.

“I won’t,” Barry promised, raising his hands.  

“Good,” Felicity grinned.  “How can you _stand_ it?”

“What?”

“Cold,” Felicity joked, “I mean, with Sergeant Artic over there.  Did he like, explode of joy during the winter ?”

Barry snorted, “We were all trying to stay alive, but I think he might have.”

“So,” Felicity drew out the work, and kicked at a clump of dead grass by her feet, “what exactly do you see in him?  Besides the handsomeness.  Cause I mean, _whew.”_

Barry grimaced.  “That’s um…”

“Too much?”  Felicity said.  “Sorry.”

“He cares about everyone he works with, especially his family.  He works hard, and he’s more than willing to sacrifice himself to save Lisa or me.  And he…” Barry shrugged, feeling his face flushing as he spoke, “Len gets me grounded when I need it or says a stupid joke when I need that.  He helps me… slow down.  Focus.  And he,” Barry laughed, “I mean, sometimes he’s really annoying.  He’ll, I don’t know, push any button he’s told not to.  But I like that .  And I like that he wants to fight beside me.”

“It’s not like Oliver can get on his high horse,” Felicity said, “he’s slept with enemies before.  Like the Huntress.”  

“Really?”

Felicity shrugged.  “Really.  We should head back in, I need to show you where you’re sleeping.”

“Thanks,” Barry said.

“I’m glad you came,” Felicity said, “not so glad you’re heralding the news of some big mega final battle showdown, but I’m glad.  That you’re not dead.”

“Me too,” Barry joked.  Although, considering how close it had come so many times, the sentiment was more honest than he was comfortable with.

* * *

"Did you know the asshole from the party that brought us in sells porn?" Len said, just as Barry stepped over toward the bed. Barry had only a minute ago walked into the room, careful to take his coat off before to give to Len as a surprise. He held the coat against his back, and dropped it to the floor when he walked over to the bed. Barry was pulling off his shoes.  

"That's the first thing you're going to say to me?" Barry said, frowning.

Len was lying on the bed, which took up almost all of the walking space besides the dresser stuffed behind the door. The room must have been storage for something, or a small office. Felicity said there hadn't been any occupants before, most people preferred to sleep in the bunks set up in the ballroom/main hall. Safety in numbers, and such.

The smaller room was more comforting right now, though not as nice as the home in the former house. It felt cozy enough, like the RV, without the age and dirt. Plus, Barry wasn't sure Len would be able to sleep in a room full of people Len didn't know. At this point, Barry wasn't sure if he could either.

Len was reading a book, which Barry glanced at nervously, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the familiar cover of _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_.

"I borrowed some from him," Len said, nonchalant. He turned a page, and his body was shifted away from Barry toward the book, but his mouth turned up in a smirk and his eyes kept flickering toward Barry.

"He lends his porn to people?" Barry said, barely fighting a yawn. He tugged off his socks with more effort than he was proud of.  "That's not sanitary. Did they leave us any..." Barry mimed putting on pants.

"Any?" Len said, innocently.

"Pajamas?" Barry said, "Spare clothes?"

"The Arrow let us take what we needed from the laundry," Len said, "it's in the dresser. I only took what we needed. And I stole it."

Barry moved toward the dresser before turning around sharply. "Stole what?"

"The porn," Len said. He licked his finger and turned the next page of his book with weirdly extreme exaggeration.

Barry grimaced. "Why do you want-" he started to say, worried about the answer. But he didn't get it. Did Len just want to prove he could still steal? It wasn't like there'd been any dip in their sex drive , not from Barry's perspective at least, why'd Len do that-

"It's for you," Len said, clipped. "Top drawer."

Barry delayed the inevitable, first opening the middle drawer and pulling out the only oversize t-shirt and comfortable pants.

They were covered with the Flash logo, an obsessive repeating print that barely left an inch uncovered. Barry glared at them, were they _a child's xxxl_? "Why, Len?" He said, his voice monotone, because of course Len would want to blow off steam right now. And that meant bothering people.

"They reminded me of you," Len said to his book.

"I can tell. Is there anything else I can wear?" Barry said, sighing.

"I only took what we needed," Len said, pleasant, which meant No.  "I don't know why it matters. I happen to like the Flash."

"I'll put it on," Barry said. It wasn't a big deal, besides looking like something a twelve year old wore and he just felt awkward, weird wearing that next to Len. So- "You really didn't get anything else?"

"You'll look cute," Len said.

"I'm sleeping naked," Barry grumbled.

"Even better."

Len wasn't fazed at all by any of this, calm and collected with the book against his arm, setting it against his knee to reach for his beer. Barry shrugged, thinking fine, to himself, as he put on a fresh pair of thankfully neutral boxers and just put on the shirt. It was too cold to actually sleep naked, and Barry knew from experience that Len's hands and feet would turn into magnets of the coldest temperatures overnight. Basically turned to ice. An irony Barry was fully aware off.

"Why are you trying to get on my nerves?" Barry asked, kicking his old Action Park clothes into the nearest corner of the room.

"It's just teasing," Len said, finally raising his eyes from the book Barry was sure Len wasn't even reading.

"Next time you get me clothes, can you get me something that isn't from the kids department of a knock-off Walmart?" Barry said, sour.

Len looked at Barry sympathetically, and said with emphasis, "I don't think I can live under those restrictions."

"You're-" Barry thought for a second, and then dropped the thought, "ugh."  

"It's just clothes," Len said.

"I don't want to look like a _kid,_ Len. You're nearly forty," Barry said, "my dad was already worried about-"

"I thought it would make you laugh," Len said, open. "Do you want to wear my clothes?"

"No," Barry grumbled. This was probably just an overreaction , fueled on by worry. He rubbed his forehead for a moment, took a deep breath and felt himself calm. He needed to sleep, the rest of the group would be back tomorrow and Barry had to be in fighting shape.  "Is there actually porn in this drawer?" Barry asked, hoping Len had been joking.

"Perhaps," Len looked at his book again.

"Don't steal anything else from people," Barry said.

"I'll ask you next time," Len said. "I'm not entirely sure if the beer and book are stolen, they weren't well hidden if someone wanted to keep them safe."

Barry snorted, he could live with that. Curious, Barry opened the top drawer of the dresser. He shut it immediately, making a bang, and then opened it again. "Why?" Barry said, looking at the three magazines.

Len had definitely stolen them for Barry and not himself, because each magazine had a lewd naked woman on the front and promises of more inside. The image most prominent was a blonde woman with straight short hair, librarian glasses, with breasts artfully placed in tight business attire and her hands hidden under her skirt. It took all of five seconds for Barry to realize she looked like Felicity, if a person was drunk, squinting, and making a giant leap .

Barry felt embarrassment rising in his face and a mix of annoyance and anger in his gut, he pushed over that magazine to see the other two were ebony only magazines , and then he shut the drawer with another slam. "Len," Barry said, as all those emotions pooled together into a weird, unsettled mix.

Len acted like he didn't hear and lifted the book closer to his face .

"Where is Dill's room?" Barry said.

"Why?" Len said, casually.

"I'm returning these," Barry said.

"Oh, come on," Len shut the book and looked at Barry, finally. "It's for you."

"I don't _want_ it," Barry said, stiff.

Len pinched his nose. _"Fine."_

"Why did you even think I'd want.. _that?_ And it's... Why did-" Barry said, halting, not sure how to finish.

"It was your _type,"_ Len said.

Barry blinked. "What does, that's not an explanation."

"Skinny, smart women," Len said, gesturing to the dresser. "You like women and men, so I figured after a couple months you might need to release something."

_"God,"_ Barry mumbled, rubbing his temples. "Len, I'm _fine._ I don't have some straight quota I need to fill ."  Barry felt his unrest get, the only way to express it was _quieter,_ and he pulled himself up to the end of the bed, stepping on the parka as he did. He kicked it further underneath the frame for the moment. Barry's knees bumped against the mound under the blankets that was Len's foot.

"I thought," Len said, closing his eyes and talking like he was defending himself, "that if you ever need to blow off steam by yourself it would be fine."

"I don't..." Barry frowned. "I just... I don't like the idea of looking at porn if I'm with someone .  And it's not really that much, I mean, it's okay, but I don't _like_ it. If it was a picture of someone I knew, it's better- it's better if I know the person ." He was babbling. "And if I'm in love, I never imagined sneaking off looking at porn as part of it. I love you, so pictures of other people don't exactly do anything for me. I can't- I really don't want it. And it hasn't bothered me that you're not a woman.  I mean, I thought that was kind if obvious considering how-" his face felt hot, "you know, how we make love."

Len watched Barry silently as he spoke, and when it was clear Barry was finished, he reached over to set the book on the floor beside the beer. Len said up, moving closer to Barry and squinting at him. "I have a question," Len said, sounding more like he was talking to a panel of judges than his boyfriend.

"Okay," Barry said.

"What do we have in common?" Len asked.

"Who?" Barry wondered.

"Felicity. Iris. Me. The ones I haven't met. Me."

Barry stared. "You want to know my type? You? After everything about not being distracted? You're the one who says it doesn't matter."

"Barry," Len said, "I want to know what you love about me.  Why you love me."

"Oh," Barry felt himself softening, "of course. You could have said that earlier."

"It wasn't easy ," Len told him.

"Len," Barry said, reaching for and covering Len's hand with his, "you take care of the people you love with everything you can. You’re smart-”

“I have next to no education,” Len reminded him.

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t smart,” Barry said, “intelligence is measured in all kinds of ways.  Just because you’re not a genius  doesn’t mean you weren’t the best leader for our group.  And that’s a responsibility you always took on, and whenever anything happened, good or bad, you’re always able to just take it.  You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“Metaphorically,” Len corrected, “I’m sure there’s a superhero friend of yours who uses iron bars as toothpicks.”

“Len, I like your dumb jokes, and the fact you’re just as self sacrificial about the people you love as me but you protect yourself.  I love that you’re a survivor, and I’m so, so glad you aren’t a zombie right now,” Barry said, feeling himself growing exhausted, he just wanted to bury himself in Len’s arms and sleep for a day.  “You make me feel safe.  You listen to me, and you have always tried to make me a better hero, even if we weren’t on the same side.  I think you’re a good person. And I just can’t see my life without you next to me anymore.  I love you.  Just… love is like, everything about you feels like home, Len.”

Len’s eyes sharply looked over at the blank wall, avoiding Barry’s gaze.  Closed off, everything just a cold mask of emotion .  But Barry knew, Len was churning, as emotional inside as Barry was expressing.  And Barry just pulled himself forward, blew out the candle from the side of the bed, and wrapped his arms around Len’s stomach to pull him close.  Len went easily with Barry’s arms, smooth as water, lying at Barry’s side .  


	47. Dr. Snow and Firestorm

"Sweet pajamas!" Cisco said. Barry assumed Cisco was smiling, but Cisco's face was hard to see under his uncombed, frizzy morning hair.

"Thanks?" Barry said, still feeling the effects of sleep, a latent, jaw clenched tiredness that comes from sleeping too long.

"Is Snart, uh- Len with you?" Cisco asked.

Barry had only a moment ago peeled his body out of Len's deathgrip, and pushed out of the bed, but he still looked behind him to check. Yep, Len hadn't moved. "Yeah?" Barry felt himself almost yawn, his jaws ached to move and his eyes were slightly burning, but the yawn didn't come. It was dissatisfying. He glanced, curious, at the window in their room and was surprised to see a telling hot yellow light, muffled but shining, behind the maroon curtain. "What time even is it?" He wondered.

"I know," Cisco said, with an awkward laugh, "it feels really nice to be sleeping in a castle, with Oliver and his militia keeping watch."

 _"Right,"_ Barry said, surprised. Len was normally the lightest sleeper too, but he wasn't even twitching. "Damn," Barry said suddenly, as a chill passed through his body. "It's cold." He turned, gestured to Cisco to come inside the room, and walked over to the dresser. There was some black shirt, a couple sizes too big for Barry, but he pulled it on anyways. Still cold, he reached under the bed and grabbed the parka.

When he zipped it up, Cisco looked like he was about to laugh at him. "What?" Barry asked.

Cisco coughed into his shirt. He was wearing new clothes too, Adidas sweatpants and a slightly too-tight 'The Truth Is Out There' t-shirt. The shirt was tight enough to show that the healthy weight Cisco used to have was gone, Barry hadn't noticed that at all before.

"Nothing," Cisco said, snapping Barry out of it.

"X-Files," Barry said, pointing to Cisco's shirt.

Cisco looked down, and then up with a wide grin on his face. "You've seen X-Files? Dude! You never understand my references," he said, excited.

Len finally moved, turning to his other side with a groan and grabbing a pillow, which he placed against his ear.

"Of course I've seen it, I love supernatural and extraterrestrial stuff," Barry said.

"And you never saw Deep Space 9," Cisco said, distracted. He frowned at Len on the bed. "We can go in my room?"

"'M awake," said a muted voice from under a pillow.

"We could go grab breakfast?" Barry said, "What did you want to talk about?"

"Or you could, you know, _run_ and get us breakfast?" Cisco suggested.

"Right," Barry said. And he paused for a moment, looking at Cisco, then Len, and then he ran because that, honestly, would be easiest. He would only be leaving Len and Cisco alone for practically a quarter of a second or two, and there wasn't really anything to worry about now, was there? Bygones.

He turned, ran, and as he did he put on a real pair of pants. It wasn't hard to run downstairs and then, seeing the kitchen mostly empty by now, just one woman filling a plate from a table that was laid out buffet style, he rushed, cleaned about ten dishes in the sink as a 'thank you', and then filled up three large tupperwares (there were about twelve left lined up under a sign that said 'Return and Wash Me!'), put forks in it, stuck three water bottles in a bag, and was back upstairs.

"Perks," Cisco said, grateful, as he took a tupperware.

"What did you want to talk about?" Barry asked, setting one tupperware on top of the dresser and sitting down on the floor with his. Cisco joined him, crosslegged.

"So...” Cisco said, sounding nervous, “are we leaving soon?”

“Tonight or tomorrow morning,” Barry said, “as soon as Oliver has everything ready.”

“Ronnie and Stein got back this morning,” Cisco told him, “apparently he came to say hi to Caitlin-”

“What happened?” Barry asked, unnecessarily since Cisco was still explaining. Barry could tell, though Len had hardly moved, that Len was listening now too.

“He left right after saying ‘hi’,” Cisco said, “I guess Stein has some project researching the zombies in this warehouse and there was some problem.”

“They didn’t need us?”

“Well,” Cisco continued, “Firestorm left to go out and check it, Oliver said it wasn’t serious but Stein was worried about it. They should be back anytime.”

“How… is Caitlin alright?” Barry asked, worried.

Cisco brushed his hair behind his ear.  “Uh, she kinda kicked Hal and I out of our room and she’s sorta just lying in the bed there. I asked her if she needed anything and she just kept saying to leave her alone.”

Barry frowned.  “What did Ronnie say to her?”

 _“Nothing,”_ Cisco said, swallowing a mouth full of hashbrowns, “I was there, Ronnie just like gave her a hug and he kissed her and they talked for all of two seconds before Stein told him they needed to go. She didn’t get a chance to say anything yet. It was honestly, so early, like four am or something.”

Len moved, Cisco’s eyes jumped to him and his body tensed for a second before relaxing, as Len pulled the blanket off and stretched his shoulder, his hand moving to massage the other forearm absent mindedly. “Does Mick know Raymond’s here?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Cisco said, “and he’s still in the infirmary for all I know. Is there going to be like… is Mick, you know?”

“Not really,” Len said. He frowned, closed his eyes, and sat on the bed quietly for a moment. Then mumbling, he added, “This had better not delay us.”

“Mick wouldn’t, uh, try to burn the whole house down, right?” Cisco asked.

“He’s not _stupid,”_ Len said. He opened his eyes, frowned around the room. “Is there any water?”

“On the dresser,” Barry said.

Len nodded, and walked over, moving stiffly but otherwise normal, saying, “He’ll probably try to fight Raymond, but it’s not like Mick can burn a man made out of fire.”

“Firestorm is made of fire, Ronnie by himself isn’t Firestorm,” Cisco corrected. “Maybe we should tell Caitlin to… uh, I mean, I don’t want to be a jerk but, maybe we should tell her not to say anything until after we fight the Reverse Flash?” He adjusted his seat on the ground, explaining, “It’s not that far away, and need Firestorm to fight with us. We can all keep it a secret.”

“I don’t think Ronnie or Dr. Stein would refuse to help just because they were mad,” Barry pointed out.

“She’s going to do what she needs to do. It’s her choice,” Len said, “I wish I could just say it’s not our business, though unfortunately it is.” Len sat on the bed with his food. “We shouldn’t keep Mick in the dark about it. The more time he has to cool off the better.”

“And you’ll be the one…?” Cisco asked.

“Yeah, I’ll tell him,” Len said.

“Maybe I should go check if Caitlin is alright,” Barry said.

“She might talk to you,” Cisco agreed.

Barry had hardly started to eat, but it only took a few seconds at super speed to finish off the rest of what he had.  “Alright,” he said, standing up, deciding to go to the kitchen to get seconds first because his stomach was still growling and there was plenty down there.

“Come here for a second,” Len said, taking a drink of water.

“Yeah?” Barry asked, stepping over.

Len reached out for his arm, pulled Barry close to him. Barry standing over so Len was looking up. “Good morning,” Len said, sounding sleepy.

Barry smiled. “Good morning,” he said, leaning down to give Len a soft kiss. Len held him there for just a second of time before letting go.

“What are _you_ wearing?” Len said with interest, his voice low. His hand reached for the collar of the parka, threading the faux fur between his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh, damn,” Barry said as he realized, “I uh, this was a surprise. I found it for you.” He shrugged the parka off, handing it to Len who was looking at him with a lopsided smile. “I mean, I know the temperature is getting warmer but you’re still using the cold gun.”

“Thank you,” Len said, leaning up again. Barry read his body language and met him for a swift press of their lips together. “Thanks for grabbing us food.”

“You’re welcome,” Barry said, still grinning. “You two’ll be fine without me, right?”

“We’re _buddies,”_ Len said, which sparked a confused look from Cisco. “I haven’t told him yet about the time Lisa bit me because she wanted a Barbie.”

“Okay,” Barry said, glad Len was making nice. With that, he ran out. And then ran right back in to ask Cisco where the room was.

* * *

Barry had barely finished saying, “Caitlin, it’s Barry,” before the door was shoved open and Caitlin pulled him inside.

There were three candles on a small table in the corner providing light, there wasn’t a lot coming in from the window on the farther side of the room. There were two mattresses on the ground, a large dresser with a mirror, but otherwise the room was much more bare. It obviously hadn’t been a bedroom before.  

Caitlin tugged Barry inside, then went right back to sitting on a mattress. The room had a sour, intense smell in it that churned Barry’s uncomfortably full stomach until he saw the bottles of nail polish and hair spray on the floor beside Caitlin’s feet. He hadn’t smelled anything that chemically intense, besides gasoline, in a long time. She was wearing a dress that was several sizes too big; it was snugly tied around her waist with a small sash, and there was a light jacket by her feet that looked more decorative then comfortable. Half of Caitlin’s hair was curled in ringlets, but she was apparently finishing painting her toenails a soft pink color.  Caitlin didn’t look at Barry.

He felt awkward, and stood by the door, rubbing his shoulder with one hand, before slowly moving to sit on the mattress next to Caitlin.

“I haven’t worn makeup in forever,” Caitlin said, after a long minute of silence. She nodded her head toward a small bag beside the hairspray. “One of the girls gave me all of this when I came in and a box of tampons. It’s this welcoming kit thing. It was really sweet.”

“That is nice,” Barry said, nodding.

“I know,” Caitlin said, casually, “I cried.”

Barry felt his throat fall into his stomach.  “Are you…”

“I’m so _sick_ of answering whether I’m okay or not,” Caitlin said, shaking her head, the half of her head with curls bouncing along her shoulder as she did. “So _sick_ of it. It’s so _fucking_ embarrassing.”

“Cait, I…” Barry stopped himself before saying, _I’m_ _sorry,_ and tried to think of anything else to say. “Did you uh… did we need to get tampons? I, well, once we ran out when we were in the RV, Lisa was crazy pissed.”

Caitlin chuckled to herself, finishing up her final toenail and then stretching her feet out. She capped up the polish bottle, which Barry was so grateful for, and picked up a pencil and the hairspray. Barry watched her wrap a strand of hair around her finger and the pencil and then spray it vigorously with the hairspray, she let the strand go and it dropped, more tightly curled then the others, but she shook her hair a bit and it matched.

“I really hope we leave tonight,” Caitlin said, “everytime I think of all the people we left behind in the hands of Wells I’m just furious.”

“No one wants to wait,” Barry agreed.

“I _hate_ waiting,” Caitlin said, vicious, _“hate_ it. I’m not waiting a second more for Ronnie. If he wants to try and make this crap up to me then he can go make this crap up to me, because I’m not waiting for him and if he doesn’t try he can stay married to Martin and I don’t give a shit. I don’t.”

“I think you do care,” Barry said before he could stop himself.

“I did _love_ him,” Caitlin said, continuing to curl her hair without a pause, “of _course_ I still love him. But I’m fucking Mick Rory, I just _am,_ I’m fucking Mick Rory right now and I _like_ to fuck Mick, the sex is _really_ good. Like, it’s so good, Barry, it’s all wild and excited and he said he wasn’t going to cum until he made me orgasm twice and it was so insane-”

“I really don’t need details,” Barry said, wide eyed.

“I have _seen_ you and Snart okay, and I sat and listened to Shawna gossip with Hartley about the sex life between you two so don’t even start,” Caitlin said, lifting the pencil up like she was lecturing.

“Uhm… okay,” Barry said, giving up reluctantly.

“I’m not trying to gross you out,” Caitlin said with a sigh, “just… ugh. It’s so… Mick is so nice to me. And sure, he’s an arsonist but Ronnie’s also running around throwing fire at people so I can’t compare that. Mick and Ronnie are pretty even in the length department but Mick is thicker-”

“O… kay…” Barry said, uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” Caitlin admitted. “But like, I’m fucking Mick Rory. That’s it. It’s not like I can go back in time and unfuck Mick Rory, and I… I…” She dropped her hands for a moment, taking a break in curling the rest of her hair, and said softly, “If I just… If I don’t think about anything and I’m honest, I want to fuck Mick right now more than I want to fuck Ronnie. I’m so _mad_ at Ronnie and I’m so… I’m so…”

Barry set his hand on Caitlin’s shoulder.

Caitlin swallowed hard, and continued, “And I’m so grateful to Mick. I like him. When I’m sitting down with Mick I know he’s not going to get up and go save the world cause he’s just… the opposite of a hero. But still good to me. I can still trust him. And Ronnie being a hero is the reason he was _dead._ I thought Ronnie was dead _twice._ How many times am I going to have to move on from Ronnie? I just can’t be going up and down like a goddamn roller coaster, I just want someone to be with me and _stay with me_ and Mick’s as loyal as a mastiff.”

Caitlin went back to curling her hair, slower now, obviously thinking to herself.

“So,” Barry asked, not wanting to push, “what do you want to do now?”

“I want to be heading back to Central City,” Caitlin said with a frown. She twirled yet another strand of hair around her finger. “I’m going to go get Mick and stay in here until it’s time to go.”

“You do have to tell Ronnie,” Barry reminded her.

“That’s _why_ I’m doing my hair, _Barry,”_ Caitlin said, obviously annoyed.

“Caitlin, that-”

“That didn’t make any sense and I know that. I know. I am so stressed out right now,” Caitlin groaned, dropping her head. “Can you get me breakfast?”

* * *

Caitlin and Barry ate breakfast in relative silence. Barry was more than nicely full at this point, which was cold but still absolutely delicious. Even full, Barry started thinking about all-you-can-eat dinners and why the hell hadn’t he gone to them before? It was such a good, good system. To be absolutely stuffed at every moment.

There were several books in the room, just lying on the floor, and Barry flipped through two of them while Caitlin ate and then found a magazine with old celebrities on it, names that used to be as common as air but he’d completely forgotten. It was so unusual, he couldn’t help but take his time looking at each photograph, depicting a half-fictional word he’d never even been in. That kind of ideal, celebrity-culture had been so far from his mind for so long, and yet here was an article about the winner of Cupcake Wars.

The least Barry could do at the moment was keep Caitlin company, and this was going to be a waiting game either way.

* * *

It was sitting down beside Ronnie that was the hardest part. They were far away from the chaos of the evening, the recognizable figures of Laurel and Thea and Dr. Stein meeting with Barry, Oliver and the rest, discussing the trip back to Central City. Leonard was inside, strangely absent, but Mick wasn't anywhere to be seen and Caitlin hoped it was Barry's influence that was giving her a moment of privacy.

She had certainly considered, when Cisco had come by the room to tell her that Ronnie and Stein had returned, downing several glasses of wine before coming outside; her nerves were like a disquiet warning under her chest.

Talking to Ronnie. She'd have given anything for this a few weeks ago. Her heart sank at that thought, the idea her reunion with her husband had come just a few weeks too late.

What a bitch that was.

"Caitlin," Ronnie said, leaning forward. They were on a bench outside, beside the well worn tracks plenty of people walked around, their backs to the protective wall. If there wasn't the cage of zombies between them and the house, Caitlin could have pretended they were in a park. "How are you?"

Ronnie looked fine. He did look tired. There was a light greenish bruise on his left hand that pained Caitlin's stomach, but he otherwise seemed the same. The same smile, same boyish charm, same positive magnetism that had her falling for him in the first place.

Oh boy. Ronnie and Mick could not have more different personalities.

"You look beautiful," Ronnie said when Caitlin didn't answer, "I've missed you." He put his hand on her knee, squeezing it gently. "Please talk to me."

Caitlin turned her head to look in the other direction from Ronnie and took a deep breath. It wasn't that her resolve had changed, that Ronnie being concerned for her would or even could suddenly change her mind (Caitlin had always been stubborn) but the moment still hurt.

"I like your hair like this," Ronnie said, his voice shaking a bit like he was nervous. He reached up to her shoulder, brushed some of the stiff curls by her face, the back of his knuckles barely touching her cheek.

 _I want to let you know I decided we're separated,_ Caitlin wanted to say. That was confusing. _How?_ She spent her most recent days doing her best not to think about this moment. "Shit," she said.

"Cait," Ronnie brushed her cheek, on purpose now.

Caitlin leaned away. Don't do that, she thought. "We don't fit together, anymore," she said.

"Cait," Ronnie said, and he sat closer to her, doing his best to look into her eyes but she kept her face fixed away from him, "of course we still do."

"See, you're thinking that but I'm not," Cait said. She crossed her arms tightly around her chest, her right hand stroking the soft jacket she was wearing to comfort herself. "You were missing for awhile."

"I've been saving lives, Cait," Ronnie told her.

"I know that," Caitlin snapped, far angrier than she met to. The anger was a lot easier to handle though and she clung to it to fuel her through this. She finally found herself able to turn and face Ronnie.

He just looked tired.

God, they were both so tired.

"Firestorm has helped so many people relocate, and find their loved ones," Ronnie explained, "Martin and I are able to fly over the zombies and burn them, they're dead, they're flammable. This area has been under our protection."

"And I wasn't," Caitlin told him.

"Of course you were," Ronnie shifted, concerned, "we redirected a zombie horde away from Central City, we stopped the destruction of a dam from those things, every time I saved anyone, Caitlin, it was you I was saving. You I was thinking of. You're the reason I could go on, I could spend months out there in the cold to protect innocent lives. You, Caitlin," he reached for her hand, and Caitlin hesitated but let him take it, "you are my strength."

"I know," Caitlin said, feeling her stomach dropping and the blood draining from her face like a sticky slime that trickled around her ears and into her skin. "I know I'm going to be the asshole, Ronnie."

"Don't ever say that," Ronnie said, loving and defensive. His other hand reached for her face, stroking her cheek and neck, at nonexistent tears that threatened more and more to be released the nicer he was being. "You are so good, Caitlin. You're my wife, I love you."

"I do love you too, Ronnie," Caitlin insisted, "but it's not the same."

"Cait," Ronnie said, softly, "what can I do to fix this? I'm sorry."

"There's nothing..." a sudden feeling of vomiting came to her and she closed her eyes and became stiff until it passed.

"I'm here now," Ronnie told her, "I'm here to protect you, to fight with you. I want to be your hero, Cait, I want to be worthy of being your hero."

"I'm so sick of hearing that, Ronnie," Caitlin said, her throat like glass, "why do you want that? Why do you think I want that?"

"What are you talking about?" Ronnie asked.

"I've never asked you to be a hero for me, I never wanted you to become a hero for me, why am I the reason for you being a hero?" Caitlin slowly, slowly, started to feel less brittle.

"I wanted to be worthy of you," Ronnie repeated, obviously confused, so, so bewildered. His eyes were wide, expression pained, and his hand on her cheek dropped to her shoulder.

"I wanted a partner, Ronnie, I didn't want a white knight going off on adventures," Caitlin said. And that was when she felt like she was crying. "I wanted you to be with me."

"I am with you now," Ronnie said, swallowing hard.

"I'm not with you, anymore," Caitlin told him, "we're off. We're jammed and I don't have the energy to fix it."

"Then let me," Ronnie said, sincere.

"No," Caitlin said.

"What are you talking about? Caitlin," Ronnie pleaded, "you're my wife. I vowed an oath to you, I will do whatever you need me to."

"I needed you not to leave me alone!" Caitlin yelled that, a rise in her voice far above anything before. She and Ronnie both flinched at it. "I thought you were dead, Ronnie."

"I didn't know who I when I became Firestorm," Ronnie reminded her.

"Again," Caitlin corrected, "I thought you were dead again. Do you have any idea how much I've been through alone? How many times I've had panic attacks in the middle of the night because I've nearly been eaten?"

"I'm sorry."

"I had a pregnancy scare, and you weren't there for any of it. I thought you were dead and I was going to have to risk an abortion without any electronic medical equipment or raise a baby without a father, do you-" her voice caught, she powered through it but then hated how weak she sounded, "have any idea what I went through? Realizing I wasn't pregnant, I was just so fucking scared all the time it was making me sick? You were being a hero, but you weren't being mine, Ronnie."

"Cait, I didn't have you either," Ronnie told her, looking scared, disturbed, his hands shaking slightly, "I wasn't saving lives because I wanted to be away for you. I was cold, I was hungry, I was missing you like crazy-"

"But that was your choice, I didn't have one!"

"When I'm Firestorm, I can't always do what is good for just myself," Ronnie explained, voice raising the way it did when he was worried.

Damn, Caitlin thought, we know each other so well and not at all.

"You said you still love me," Ronnie said to her, "I still love you."

"I didn't marry Firestorm, I married a man I thought would be my partner. You're Stein's partner," Caitlin told him.

"Martin isn't my wife," Ronnie promised.

"I don't want to be your wife either!" Caitlin said, angry. And oh god, was that a horrible thing to say. The expression on Ronnie's face, the sickening crush in her own gut, what a horrible horrible thing to say.

"Cait," Ronnie was close to tears, "please," and when he reached for her hand again, Caitlin saw he was still wearing his ring at the same moment Ronnie saw that she wasn't.

"I don't know, Ronnie," Caitlin told him, softly, "I don't know what the future is like anymore, and it really scares me. It scares me so, so..." so much, "but when I'm with Mick, I don't feel like he's going to leave. I feel like he's more dangerous than anything that could come after me and for the first time in months I actually feel safe."

She could see the exact moment in Ronnie's eyes, like a switch turning, when sadness turned to betrayal. "Who's Mick?" He asked, stonily.

"Mick's the person I decided to date after I gave up on the idea that you'd ever be coming back," Caitlin said.

"You sl- che- you cheated on me?" Ronnie said, hands dropping away from her.

"I really felt," Caitlin explained, "we were over. We were over to me. It's not like I could send you an email to let you know that. Don't act like you weren't away from me for months. When was I supposed to decide you were never coming back? How long was the acceptable amount of time for me to grieve for you the second time?"

"I'm sorry, Caitlin, I'm sorry," Ronnie said, choking up.

"I've spent a third of the time we've been together grieving, it's not your fault but it's- I couldn't keep doing that. I couldn't go through the apocalypse alone."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"That's not going to change anything!"

"I've stayed faithful to you, Caitlin," Ronnie told her, "always. I've never even thought about another woman while I've been with you."

"That's unrealistic-" Caitlin started to say.

"You're my soulmate," Ronnie insisted, "you're the woman I've wanted my whole life, the one I dreamed of finding."

"Ronnie, don't. Please."

"I've never cheated on you," Ronnie told her.

"Well I have! And that's it!" Caitlin stood up, sharply, almost falling over from the burst of energy. Her fists clenched and unclenched, rubbed against the fabric on her sides, and she turned to Ronnie, "I don't recognize anything about this, Ronnie. Us. The- the fucking continent. You don't act like you used to be when we met."

"People change, Cait," Ronnie said, "marriage is about sticking with it."

"And that's what you didn't do first!"

"I thought about you every day!"

"And I only just managed to stop thinking of you!"

Ronnie stood up, reaching out for her hand. He held it with both of his own, lifting her hand to his chest.

The nail polish had already chipped a bit, Caitlin noticed. What a pity.

"Caitlin, I still love you, even if I've changed and everything about the world changes," he promised.

"I wanted to marry a down to earth structural engineer," Caitlin told him, "not one-half of Firestorm."

"I didn't have a choice about becoming Firestorm," Ronnie said, angrily now, obviously hurting.

Caitlin's stomach clenched. "Well, Mick gave me a choice. And I decided to... stop this just..." her eyes burned, "this horrible cycle of thinking you're dead and grieving and being lonely so I..."

"Cait."

"If you love me," Cait told him, "respect my choice. I don't know how I feel about Mick yet, but I think Mick is what I need right now."

"I'm your husband," Ronnie said softly, "let me be what you need. Tell me what you need."

Cait felt a sudden surge of anger that was gone again as quickly as it came. "I just said it."

"What can he do for you that I can't? Cait," this time when Ronnie reached for her face she stepped back.

"Stop," Cait said, pained.

"You're my wife," Ronnie told her, "don't I deserve another chance?"

"Maybe?" Caitlin said, bewildered at herself. "Maybe? I don't know. But when I fucked Mick I did it because I had decided to give up on you-"

"Don't say it like that in front of me," Ronnie choked out. "I can't believe you-" Ronnie stepped back, looking at her with such utter sadness Cait started to cry.

"I didn't forget you, I still love you, I just can't, I can't be with you and I don't know if maybe, after you've been alive longer than a year, I could be with you again but I know that if I became your wife again and you left me after this battle or you died forever this time I'd just," her entire face felt hot and sticky, tears coming down her cheeks in slow waves, "I would not manage it. I couldn't... manage..." Manage? What kind of a world is 'manage' to describe how... wretched the thought of Ronnie dying or leaving again was? "I'm a smart woman, I know that I'm smart. I'm not getting invested in you again, but I'm so fucking-" she could nearly scream the word, "fucking, fucking, fucking lonely."

Ronnie stared at her as a slow expression, something like horror, crawled inch by inch over his face as he understood. "Okay, Cait. Okay."

* * *

It was so good to hear from everyone again, to stand in a room full of people who he hadn't even been sure were alive and to talk to them. Laurel was looking amazing, she greeted Barry and Cisco with stiff hugs. Thea and Roy were looking great, there was a flushness to their appearance at all times, an unbroken smile between them, and Roy's hands rested comfortably in Thea's pockets whenever they stood still. Dr. Stein was pleasant too, of all the people Barry had met so far he looked the most haggard, if strong. Stein's hair was peckled black and grey, a beard on his face looking rather unkempt, but he held himself up stronger, hardly fidgeted anymore, with a strength and confidence that seemed to come out of a deep sadness.

Barry spent a long time talking with them, introducing everyone and repeatedly, over and over it seemed, explaining that yes, Len was his boyfriend and the Rogues were on their side, he was good, everyone he knew were (last time he'd seen them) alive, and yeah, Hal Jordan claimed to be a space cop and was sticking to that story. There was a brief talk by Oliver, a strong urgency for privacy, an explanation about the costs, where he offered an 'out' to anyone who didn't want to participate in the mission. No one opted out, and Barry found himself nearly floored with gratefulness.

These people cared about him, respected him. Enough to risk themselves. And all these people were heroes. They heard the call that they might be able to stop the Black Hand and they were ready to sacrifice everything they had for it.

Barry could not pinpoint the moment he, and all the people he loved, developed the instincts of soldiers, but they had.

It was a very good thing they had; after all, without those instincts Barry couldn't say if even half the people he knew would be alive.

Caitlin walked into the room sometime around when Oliver, Felicity, Thea, and Roy were carrying up baskets of dinner food. He saw her going up to Len out of the corner of his eye while he was standing with Laurel and Hal, listening to Laurel talk about a cult of zombie worshippers she'd dismantled and saved from a Jonestown-esque fate. They spoke briefly and then Caitlin left the room without taking anything to eat. A moment later Ronnie walked in and went to speak privately to Stein in the corner. His gut sank in worry, but Barry brought his concentration back to the story.

It was awhile before he managed to disengage from that conversation. Hal was working very hard to impress and convince Laurel that yes, he was beholden to some almighty green aliens in the sky, and Laurel demanded proof, which Hal didn't have anything close to without his ring.

He finally managed to get out, only to spend awhile talking about car arrangements for the morning with Oliver. And then he met a woman who apparently ran the kitchens in Queen Mansion, who had been providing all the meals they'd been eating and had rationed and supplied the rations for their trip. Barry greeted her enthusiastically, and when she introduced him to her ten year old son, Barry was happy to talk with him for a bit.

It was only after that he managed to talk to Len, and he was feeling the pangs of exhaustion by that point. His Flash abilities wanted to sleep, and so did his mental state. Barry wanted to sleep and go. Not wait any longer; be heading out to Central City.

"Hey, you," Len said when Barry grew closer, reaching up to cup Barry's head in his hands, "bed?"

Barry sighed and nodded. He followed Len's lead, not noticing that they slipped out of the party rather than saying goodbye's.

Barry put his arm around Len's waist and leaned his head into Len's side, and Len wrapped his arm around Barry's shoulders. "What did Caitlin want?" Barry asked him.

"She was looking for Mick," Len told him.

"He wasn't in the infirmary?" Barry asked.

"Nah, the idiot wanted to get some smokes."

"Is he really in the best shape to be doing that?" Barry said, knowing he wasn't exactly asking a question.

Len did as much of a shrug motion as he was able to as they walked with their arms around each other. "His choice. I didn't have any, told him to go ask Dill."

They had to disengage a bit from each other so they could walk up the stairs. "Did Caitlin say... y'know, how it went?" Barry wondered.

"I told her to be easy if she was letting Mick go, she said she didn't plan on it," Len replied, "I'm hoping she doesn't make the choice that ends with Mick trying to burn this mansion down."

"Mick... he wouldn't?" Barry frowned.

"He gets sad," Len answered.

"That's not healthy. That's destructive," Barry said. When they got to the door, Barry reached to open it and Len stepped behind him, wrapped his arms around Barry and pressed his nose against the back of Barry's neck. Len took a deep breath.

Barry managed to maneuver over to the bed with Len hugging him from behind, he wasn't awake enough to ask Len to let go. "Seriously, it isn't healthy," Barry said.

"He's been to counseling," Len said. He fell back on the bed, the mattress creaking a little underneath him.

Barry went to the dresser and threw Len's pajamas from the night before over to him, and changed into the same thing he had worn the other night too. "I don't think it's worked," Barry said.

"Mick likes her a lot, I just don't want to see my friend get shut down. He has been alone this entire time here, and I didn't want him to stay alone, although," Len's voice suddenly had a harsh tone, "he tried to proposition Lisa-" Len's voice cut off.

Len had a neutral expression on his face, and didn't say anything after that, but Barry knew. He laid down next to Len, held him close to him, and let them fall asleep together. They both had family trapped in Central, and that silent worry was understood between them even as they fell asleep.

* * *

Mick still smelled like smoke when he stumbled into the bed, Caitlin’s hands on his waist guiding him down. As she pulled her face closer, pressing against the bare skin of his sleeves, he smelled more like medicine, alcohol wipes, and some thick scented bodywash he must have used. “Sh, darlin’,” Mick mumbled, reaching his coarse hand up to her neck to pull her head down, kissing the top of her head again.

Caitlin slid herself on the bed, her body like water as she guided herself along Mick’s side. She was careful to give a wide space to his injuries. Mick didn’t care about that, he reached his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against him. He was strong. Warm. Caitlin pressed her nose against his chin, her forehead scratched by the stubble on his face. “Doll,” Mick mumbled, his voice so low his chest rumbled with it.

Caitlin shrugged the jacket off, trying not to move the rest of her, and kicked at the blankets at her feet until she was able to grab them with her hand and pull them over the both of them.

“Beautiful,” Mick said, saying the word like a name, “jus’ one thing I need to tell ya.”

“Mhm,” Caitlin said. Her hands searched for a comfortable place for her arms, she settled on grabbing Mick’s body like a convoluted hug, one of her hands flush over the scars on Mick’s bicep and curled around him, the other arm folded under her body.

“Careful with the hairspray, doll, ya know that’s flammable,” Mick grumbled.

Caitlin chuckled, shifted her body one last time, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it has been awhile since my last update, sometimes life is like that, and sometimes I work on other things. This fic being finished is a goal for me, so it's not over and it will be finished. So I don't want any of you to worry that it's abandoned cause it won't be. Honestly, I've written well over 250,000 words and this fic is not even a year old yet and I have been writing other things too. So it's getting done. And that concludes a pep talk for me to you.
> 
> ...
> 
> Regarding this chapter, I just want to say, Caitlin's storyline here is meant to parallel one of the original plotlines of The Walking Dead (the inspiration for this fic) but done with an emphasis on her character's point of view where the other story was told from the other side of the romantic equation. I wanted to emphasize why she'd need to do what she did, why she wasn't in the wrong, and the difficulties Caitlin has gone through in her Firestorm romance in the Flash story.


	48. And Back To Central City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This day marks the 1 year anniversary of me writing this story, which is certainly the longest amount of time I've ever spent on anything I've written before. Thanks so much for all you amazing fans, giving me so much love and encouragement, and I'm glad I've written something so many people have enjoyed! It's incredible to think of how many people, from so many places, have liked and enjoyed this.
> 
> A gigantic thank you to RedHead (ao3)/coldtomyflash (tumblr), without whom this would never be possible and who is a COMPLETELY INCREDIBLE writer too so if you haven't, check out RedHead's page.
> 
> I'd also like to direct everyone to this really great fanvideo, which I absolutely freaked out upon seeing. I've always planned to make a big link page to all the fanworks (the fact there is even one fanwork, much less more than one, out there in the world is crazy) but I just had to share this one now.  
> Tumblr link (plus my comments): http://coldflashcw.tumblr.com/post/141517452877/coldtomyflash-dolkav-video-clip-to-fic-rogue  
> Youtube link: https://youtu.be/AiHi22UhMDo

Barry would literally have spun Felicity in circles and kissed her if that gesture of celebration wouldn't be misinterpreted by both Oliver and Len. He had to make do with a large, swooping hug of appreciation. Felicity laughed brightly.

"It was the least she could do," Felicity said, pleased, "you were so nice with her son. And she used to work at Cinnabon."

The steaming tupperware, as soon as it had been opened, filled the RV with just pure... goodness. Barry nearly bawled with joy. It was Cinnabon. These were the most Cinnabon looking cinnamon buns he'd seen in half a year and there was absolutely no explaining how insanely delicious they smelled.

Len was sitting across from Barry, his elbows on the table and his hand on his face, almost-but-not-quite hiding a smile. "You can have mine," Len told him.

Barry actually felt his eyes watering as he looked at Len, feeling an intense love swelling up in his chest. "Thank you," he said. His voice quivered a little.

"Let's pass them out," Felicity clapped her hands, excited.

"Please," Cisco said from the shotgun seat, "that smells amazing."

Felicity did the work of passing out everyone's beautifully prepared cinnamon buns while Barry barely resisted the urge to just zip over and grab his. The other car, a minivan, had their own supply of the treat, she let them all know.

Barry really didn't focus on much after he got his plate. He didn't savor the first one, he had morning hunger pangs still. But after he ate the first, drank a liter of orange juice and had a yogurt, he was not-so-starving enough to eat that beautiful second cinnamon bun the way it deserved to be eaten.

Oliver was driving, the pace of the vehicle just starting to slow down as they exited Starling City and began to travel unregulated road. Cisco had a map on his lap but was animatedly regaling the story of the defeat of the raiders and the zombies at the airport, which Oliver had heard before (from Len) but that version had been clipped to the bare bones of it. Cisco's was much more exciting. If Hal had been in the RV, Hal would have demanded Cisco record it.

Hal however, had not been satisfied by Laurel, Roy, and Thea's disbelief in his otherwordly superheroic origins and had volunteered to drive the minivan so he could continue to not-convince them. The minivan was leading the way, it was smaller than the RV but stronger. The outsides were reinforced with metal snowplow-esque barriers to knock away debris. Martin and Ronnie were also in the minivan, for obvious reasons, since Caitlin and Mick were in the RV.

Barry wasn't good at whatever game he was currently playing with Len and Felicity. He was more focused on the last few bites of the cinnamon bun he was savoring. Felicity had brought it, Len had recognized it, and Barry had been left thumbing through the rule book. He wished Caitlin had joined in too, but she was sitting on the mattress beside Mick, reading _Eat, Pray, Love_ while Mick slept.

"You have to play black," Len said, explaining the rules of rook again. "Felicity called it as trump."

"I don't... wait," Barry looked through his cards again, confused. He was not getting this. While it was nice in concept to be playing a game besides poker, solitaire, or anything else played with a traditional deck, he kind of would rather be playing Monopoly or Settlers of Catan. Or Chutes and Ladders. "I don't have trump."

"If you don't have trump or the rook, you can play a different card. Don't play a point card," Len explained.

"I have the rook," Barry realized.

"Then you have to play that," Len told him.

Barry did. He was definitely wishing someone else could play so he could just lean on Len and hold up Len's cards for him. Len had to pick up his cards, spread them out with one hand, and set them down to pull out the one he wanted. It was slow going.

"Can't you speed read through the instructions?" Felicity asked. Her eyes were glazed over with boredom and she'd already made herself three coffees.

"He'll forget it in half an hour," Len answered instead of Barry, "not very useful for learning a new game."

"We have other games though, right?" Barry asked. Hoping, desperate, for anything besides a card game to play with.

"I brought a duffle bag," Felicity replied.

"Oh, good!" Barry said, excited.

"After I make it to 500," Len warned. 

* * *

Mick and Len were the most annoying motherfuckers in the world at Balderdash. Barry loved Len, a lot, and Cisco was 100% correct that Barry was upvoting Len's comments on his round from favoritism, but Len wasn't doing the same because Barry was actually playing the damn game unlike Mick and Len.

Felicity and Cisco looked exasperated, Caitlin laughed at literally anything Mick said though she seemed sincere about it, and Barry tried his hardest to seem serious but he kept jumping between being annoyed by the constancy of Len and Mick's jokes and wanting to play the game like it was meant to be.

For 'widdershins' Barry guessed 'a shinguard made of woven cloth material', and everyone else wrote in a definition something as similar as they could possibly get (Cisco's answers were consistently the most accurate). Len guessed 'snowman knees' and Mick drew a picture of a man, on fire, and scribbled in indecipherable handwriting that he had to explain, "that's guy's Widdershins."

Yapok was "when ya poke a fire, ya stroke it, bring the flame out" and 'part of an eskimo hat'. Also, about seven out of ten cold related puns Len made had to do with eskimos, and Barry was starting to wonder if Len had a fetish for it.

When Mick wrote the definition for 'tweezlick' as "tweezlick this hot dick" and Len wrote 'something that'd be easier to do to Barry with two hands', Barry and Caitlin shared an amused, and befuddled, look of camaraderie. Which was really nice to be able to do. 

* * *

When it was Barry's turn to drive, Len sat in the driver's seat next to him with the map.

"Sure your license isn't expired?" Len joked, as Barry started the engine.

"Ha ha," Barry replied. Though actually, he hadn't driven anything in almost two years, with a very, very, very few exceptions. "Tell me if I'm about to hit something."

"If we crash, let's die in each other's arms. It'll be romantic," Len deadpanned.

"Just, if you see any zombies or deer," Barry said, slowly pressing down the accelerator and too aware he'd never driven anything as large as the RV before.

Len leaned over the mass of electronic equipment and drawers stuffed with road maps and gum, sitting as far over the end of his chair as he could. His left elbow supported the weight of his body, his right hand casually holding it steady.  He put his feet up on the dashboard, and then sighed comfortably. "Absolutely," he said, finally. As he proceeded to look straight at Barry and not the road.

"I can't believe I haven't driven the RV before," Barry said.

"It's not like we were eager to hand the reigns over to a superhero. At first," Len explained, "and you know Lisa loves to drive."

"Yeah," Barry said, shrugging.

Barry was bored in the span of one minute. Told Len, and Len tried fiddling with the radio, but they weren't able to connect to anything. The others in the back were playing a game, casually chatting with each other, and Barry frowned as he felt left out. He squinted at the sun as he drove, grateful when the road turned slightly to give him shade.

"Do you remember that time you took me to the woods?" Len asked.

"Which time?" Barry's hands slowly started to unclench from the wheel the longer he drove. He cheated a bit, with his superspeed, checking the road on either side with his eyes for wayward zombies, deer, debris, or anything else.

"Before the apocalypse," Len said.

"The woods?"

"When I figured out your identity," Len clarified, "you took me off of my bike and ‘flashed’ me over."

"Oh," Barry remembered, "yeah."

"That was fun," Len said.

"What part? The part where we both thought we were about to fight to the death?" Barry said with a snort.

"The verbal sparring, the danger, threatening, negotiating," Len trailed off.

"That sounds very unromantic," Barry said.

"Haven't you ever watched Jane Austen?" Len mused.

Barry glanced at Len, a little shocked. "You've read Jane Austen? Pride and Prejudice? Mansfield Park?"

"I did say _watched_ ," Len corrected. 

Barry grinned. "That is more likely."

"I'm gay, I'm over thirty, I had a Colin Firth obsession once," Len mumbled.

"I don't know who that is," Barry said.

"Jesus Christ," Len said under his breath, "Pride and Prejudice. Everyone's fucking seen that movie. God knows Lisa's made me watch that and Phantom of the Opera more times than Scorsese."

"Pride and Prejudice, like with Kiera Knightly?"

"Isn't she from the one with the pirates?"

"Yeah, Pirates of the Caribbean," Barry said.

"Good movie," Len said, nodding.

"Good movie," Barry agreed. There was a pause, as he drove, the road quiet, continuing on unchanging and yet changing, a slight twist, a new backdrop, but each yellow line and white border continuing on as they would always be. A collaboration of dull and exciting, a midwest road. "What... if we, you know, if we- when we... uh..."

"Tell me."

"Well," Barry said, more quiet, "if we can go to Europe, back to life as we know it-"

"Europe isn't exactly my idea of normal life," Len pointed out.

"But... cars, jobs, electricity, movie stars, and god, watching the news, I'm just..." Barry struggled to continue.

"The Flash, savior of... hmm, London? Dublin? Kingston?"

"I don't know if I’d be a sav... where's Kingston?" Barry asked.

"Capital of Jamaica. I've always debated going," Len explained.

"What do you miss the most?" Barry asked, taking advantage of his powers to give Len's face a long glance. Len was listening, pensive, and relaxed as he leaned toward Barry.

"I don't know," Len said, at first. There was a pause, and then he continued, "I like how black and white survival is, here. However fucked that is."

"Like?" Barry slowed down to pass an abandoned car on the road, it was empty of all life, he could tell, as he glanced at the windows. Whoever had been there must have run out of gas and walked.

"There's a simplicity to this life. No government. I've spent my entire life worrying about the law," Len said, "the horrors of prison. Which, it wasn't near as bad once I was actually there, but I hate the... confinement. Every day, monotonous. That itch inside, boredom. Guards having power fantasies. Prisoners having power fantasies. Everyone wanting to kill someone else or die themselves, it's... and would we even be together if it wasn't for this apocalypse?"

"Yes," Barry answered, not hesitating a second.

Len laughed to himself. And shrugged, yielding the point to Barry. "I think I miss french fries. Going out to a bar. Drinking a beer over bank blueprints. Sitting on a couch reading magazines while Mick tinkers on things. Hockey. I..." He was quiet, "I don't like the idea that I can't give you things."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't... steal something precious. Buy diamonds. Treat you to a 5-star restaurant. There's no spoiling to be had here," Len frowned, "I can't really show you I love you."

"I know you love me, I don't need gifts to prove it," Barry assured him.

“I still don't like it," Len replied.

"You could go to a museum in one of these towns and grab me something," Barry said, almost laughing. "I don't _want_ anything, Len. And I don't think I would want anything, even if there weren't walkers and Black Hands."

"It's not the same," Len said.

"I know," Barry told him. As he passed one of those titular road signs, promising McDonalds, Pizza Hut, Five Guys, Applebees, and Cracker Barrel on the next exit, he really felt that pang of loss for the way they used to live. "I know."

"I like to give things," Len said softly.

Barry raised his voice, high pitched, and said in a breezy and over dramatic voice, "Every moment with you is a gift."

Len snorted. "Still," he added.

"We could always get married," Barry said.

Barry said it as casually as he could, turning the RV down a different road, trying not to have any overly emotional inflection in his voice. Neutral. Calm.

"We could," Len said.

And for some, ungodly, torturous reason, Len apparently decided that conversation concluded and he changed the subject.

* * *

Sleeping arrangements were… weird, to say the least. Mick was injured, and had the comfort of the bed. Caitlin curled up beside him and no one grudged her that space. Barry, when they were standing around, looking awkward, offered Felicity and Oliver the futon. Cisco crawled up to the bed on the wall.

Barry and Len ended up with the floor. It felt awkward, Barry had never really grown out of expecting the comfort of expecting a mattress, however meager.

Still, lying next to Len, his pillow as Len's arm, a blanket under and over them, while watching Len close his eyes and fall asleep, it didn't feel horrible. It was good.

And Barry loved him. Every second of his life felt better if Len was next to him, every tiny little thing felt more interesting if Len's eyes were on it too. He wanted Len's opinion. He wanted Len's warmth. He wanted Len, beside him, forever. Barry loved him.

"Thanks for giving me your breakfast," Barry whispered.

Len shifted forward just enough to kiss Barry's hair, and then fell back onto his comfortable, non-human pillow. Barry fell asleep seconds later.

* * *

It would have been nice to make a game out of it, _it_ meaning the lake. The water was crystal clear, very cold but comfortable enough once Barry got used to it. He left the urge to lie back, listening to a hum of conversation as the people satisfactorily washed food on the part of the shore closest to the road.

No one was really in the mood for that kind of game, though. Not even Barry.

But it was still relaxing and fun in its own way, to lay back in the water, close his eyes, and lift his face toward the sun. It was almost as if time wasn't rushing toward another confrontation with the Reverse Flash.

Barry had chills that weren't from the cold of the water, and when they raised his goosebumps too fast he swam over to the shore.

Was he a failure for not stopping the apocalypse earlier? Could he be a hero for trying to stop it now? Barry wasn't sure, but at least he'd have a full stomach soon.

* * *

They'd hardly made it into Central, just a few miles passed the welcoming sign, when a man stepped out into the middle of the road. He gave them plenty of time to stop, but it was alarming enough for everyone to grab their weapons.

Barry recognized him, and in an instant phased out of the RV and ran in front of him. "Eddie," Barry said, worried.

Eddie looked exhausted, weighed down, heavy dark circles under his eyes and a beard shadow that could only be described as forgetful. He swallowed, stiff, when Barry came up to him. Looking over at the edge of the road, he said immediately, "Eobard has Grodd contained in the parking lot at Star Labs. He's pretty insistent on that being where we fight."

"Now?" Barry asked, his heart jolting.

"He wants you to carry the archers to the roof," Eddie said. He swallowed again, then coughed.

"Now?"

"Yes, now," Eddie said, harsh. His voice dropped quieter when he continued, "We knew you were coming miles back, so everyone else is set. Eobard has your father and Iris, somewhere. I don't know. No one but he does."

"He's holding them hostage," Barry realized. He heard, behind him, the sound of people getting out of a car. He frowned, "He's only holding them hostage? No one else?"

"Technically?" Eddie asked, a bite to the words. "No, he wants the rest of us to fight. He doesn't think he really needs anyone but you, if it came down to fighting everyone else."

"The others are safe?" Barry asked.

"Sure," Eddie said, "we're about to fight an armada of zombies and some zombie-king, but no one's dead."

"Is Lisa alright?" Len asked, stepping up beside Barry.

Eddie nodded, looked at Oliver, Hal, and Laurel moving to stand beside Barry, and he added, "I can't say anything else."

"What's the plan?" Laurel asked, giving a quick glance from Eddie to Barry.

"We need to go to Star Labs, Grodd's waiting there," Barry said, looking at Eddie carefully. He didn't want to say anything to alert Eddie that Oliver and the others knew Eobard was there, but the more pressing worry was the battle with the Black Hand. They'd already done whatever they could to prepare for a possible ambush.  

"Good," Oliver said, lifting his hand up to pull down his hood.

"Is Carol alright?" Hal asked, stepping forward in concern.

Eddie looked worried for a moment, but then he nodded with confidence. "She's fine. She's ready to fight."

"So that makes all of us," Len said.

"Honestly, I'd really like if we could stop by a gun store or a baseball bat and nails depot," Cisco jumped in, Barry hadn't even noticed him come up. "Maybe a body armor boutique. But yeah, everyone seems ready."

* * *

Grodd was held to the ground by a single chain, one wrapped around his foot. He wasn't... surly, or even interested in anything as the groups mingled around him, greeting each other tensely, preparing their weapons.

Len had gone to Lisa immediately and pulled her up in his arms. Hal found Carol, and Len eventually let Lisa go so she could give Cisco a quick hug and a kiss.

"So, what time should we be expecting the giant monkey to tell us the Black Hand is en route?" Hal asked, after nervously gesturing to his ringless hand.

"He's been communicating with the Hand for hours already," Carol told him. "They'll be here any moment. The teleporter and her boyfriend are keeping watch on the Crystal Imperial Building, they'll jump back here to tell them the enemy is coming any moment now."

Hal frantically gestured to his empty hand then, pointed at Carol's purple uniform, back to his hand, and then to his face where he made an exaggerated frown.

Barry couldn't do anything about that. He had no idea where Eobard, or Captain Boomerang, or the Huntress were. Their absence raised his nerves, but he forced himself to try and focus on what he had to do in the moment.

He ran around and over the Star Labs building, searching for the best and clearest spots for the archers, and for Felicity, Cisco, and Caitlin, who'd all been suited with kevlar and weapons but weren't trained or prepared to fight a war. He'd tried to get Joe to go up there too, but Joe wasn't having it. Barry just... he couldn't fight Joe on this. He wanted to, _damn_ , he wanted to force everyone else go, to stay up high and safe and just leave him to fight on the ground, but he couldn't. Even Oliver, Roy, and Thea weren't likely to stay up in the air for long, all were fully prepared and willing to zipline down to the floor if they felt needed.

Barry moved everyone to locations, careful not to jolt anyone too much with his superspeed. He paused, having situated Oliver at the highest location, and watched as Oliver set down his duffle of arrows, and lined up a ready-to-fire zipline. "Are you alright?"

"I've been spending months wanting to kill whoever destroyed my country," Oliver said, slamming the zip line into place. He grabbed the duffle and zipped it open, managing to seem angry and intimidating just with that motion. "I finally get the chance."

"Well, that's nice? Then," Barry said awkward. He shrugged his shoulders instead of finishing the sentence.

"All we need to go is stay here. React to what comes to us," Oliver said, kneeling down, "just stay alive. If we stay alive, we've won."

"There's more than one way to be alive nowadays," Barry pointed out, saying the words like a joke but they made his stomach churn.

"Those mindless corpses are not alive," Oliver said, simply. "And even if what, the Black Hand dies and the corpses are all suddenly human again? They're decayed. They're dead. There's no saving them."

"I wish there was," Barry said softly.

"We can't dwell on it," Oliver replied, "make sure Felicity is safe."

"On it," Barry said with a nod. He almost felt like saluting, but he sped away before he could convince himself to do it.

God, where was Iris? Barry thought, his stomach clenching. He forced himself to keep moving, coming up with the idea of double- checking everyone. They were safe, for now, Grodd was silent while Barry circled him, a hulking black mass in the center of the parking lot, not breathing but twitching. Barry was terrified of him. Grodd was a sure omen, the creature’s presence just another reminder that everyone-

And his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, furious, change in direction.

It took less than an instant for Barry to adjust, but for a speedster, instants meant miles. Barry gained his bearings, feeling and then seeing a yellow arm grasping his shoulder at his neck, pulling him backwards as he was raced toward an unknown location. With disgust, Barry grasped for the arm, ready to yank it off of him with every bit of strength he had left.

But he was dropped before he could. Falling harshly on his side and back to land on a carpet. Barry sped to his feet, letting the lightning linger in clenched hands and darting eyes. He met Eobard’s snarl with hatred.

“Back so soon?” Eobard said. “And what a collection you’ve brought for me.”

“They’re here for the Black Hand,” Barry snapped, “not for you.”

“Not yet,” Eobard backed up, standing straight and tall, a person exuding far more confidence than anyone approaching a death match should. “Helena,” Eobard called out, voice suddenly more pleasant, “radio George to bring up something to eat after he’s done with Miss West and Mr. Allen.”

Barry turned around, looking where Eobard’s eyes flickered to.

They were in a penthouse apartment, which was so… ridiculous, but of course Eobard would only stay in the best. The carpet smelled vacuumed, there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere, a table was set with five gold place settings – they looked gold, and though Barry couldn’t tell real gold from fake he bet Eobard would break out in hives if he touched fake gold. There was a kitchen island stocked with wine and alcohol, nothing but a status symbol for a speedster, and everything, from the tables, chairs, couch, and some old looking device beside the couch, which Barry guessed was a battery powered radio, looked polished, and minimalist. There was a view of Star Labs through the huge windows, and there must have been a patio, because a woman in black, her hair tied securely in a long braid, was stepping back into the room. 

“And before you get any heroic ideas,” Eobard said, “there’s _a little man_ named _Bivolo_ keeping his eye on your friends. Funny, there’s a way to make your loved ones try to kill you that _doesn’t_ involve killing them.”

Barry swallowed, hard, and forced himself to stand still.  The Huntress walked out, leaving the room. The full experience of this room made Barry expect to hear the ding of an elevator, but of course that never came. It wasn’t like the electronic grid of the city had miraculously turned on in the time it took him to get to the penthouse. _If she’s using the stairs,_ Barry thought _, Iris and Dad are somewhere on the next couple of floors_. But what use was that information? When the Black Hand could be arriving to fight at any moment?

“Bivolo won’t be fighting with us?” Barry said, a statement and a question.

Eobard laughed.

His chest heaved and his face was wretchedly mirthful, his sickening face, the face Barry was starting to associate with a gag reflex, twisted into its own version of a gross smile. “I’m not fighting, Barry,” Eobard explained, like a father patronizing a child, “that’s why I sent you to collect those friends of yours.”

Barry’s breath caught in his throat.  “You- but the Black Hand is-”

“What do we even know about him? We know that _somehow_ , forced manipulation in the timeline let a man take over this entire goddamn land,” Eobard said, shrugging his shoulders in nonchalance, “either this plan works or it doesn’t. But what plan needs two speedsters?”

Eobard turned, back to Barry in a display of confidence, and walked over to put his hands on the table. He frowned to himself, then grinned, then looked up at Barry with that expression. “Either the plan works, or it doesn’t. And if it doesn’t, my subordinates and I are going away unscathed.” He added, a quiet tone with an edge of roughness, “I will miss you, Barry. As a son I never had. But…” Eobard looked like he was about to let out another bark of laughter, “Captain Cold? You’re not exactly the Flash I used to idolize, are you?”

“I’m glad,” Barry growled. “Fuck you.”

Eobard looked annoyed. Exasperated. Pissed. It was that mix of angry and well-meaning, or a narcissistic I-know-best feeling. “Barry,” he said, as if that one word should mean something. As if Barry should respect Eobard’s opinions. “I’m a man who-”

“I’m not interested in hearing any motivational speeches from the man who killed my mother,” Barry interrupted.

Eobard’s glare was intense. “You will listen to me,” he snapped, “or _I’ll be the man who killed your father too!_ ”

Barry’s stomach lurched, hard enough he felt his gag reflex. “Get it over with,” Barry said, stiffly, and furious.

“Don’t you _forget_ ,” Eobard said, each syllable lifting his mouth in a snarl, like an alpha predator ready to seek vengeance on a wounded mouse, “ _I am not_ _a man_ _who enjoys giving away mercy_.” He paused, barely a second, enough to sink the words in. “Your father could die any second,” Eobard continued, fierce enough that any person in their right minds would be terrified. The man’s anger was… backed by an insane receipt of destruction, an unyielding zeal, and a terrifyingly patient genius. There was nothing more frightening than the sharp furrow of Eobard’s forehead and the whites of his eyes.

Barry wanted to punch him with any and everything he had. He wanted… in that moment, and truthfully, in many moments, Barry wished… for a cold tire iron in his hand. A dark, Starbucks wall. Lightning at his fingertips. And the target’s head was Eobard’s.

Perhaps the most frightening part of Eobard was the depths to which Barry hated him, and how Barry… Barry knew, he could kill Eobard. Maybe not before this, not before lines of ‘who is good’ and ‘who is bad’ blurred, not before he was friends with the Green Arrow, not before Barry fell in love with a murderer, not before Barry killed, not before Barry had faced the guilt and self-loathing of being a murderer and decided he could overcome it. Or… maybe, it was always there. An eleven-year-old boy watching the mother he loved screaming his name.

Nora was twenty-five, fresh to Central City from small-town Iowa, when she met a man twenty years older. She fell in love. And she’d loved Barry, every part of him; she understood him, she cared about him, she made Barry feel safe.

She was a young, beautiful woman who loved the city, married a well-off doctor, and had a son. She was a _light_ , a positive, loving person. She _didn’t deserve_ to be collateral damage in a violent killer’s rampage. _Her death was_ _nothing_ but an annoying stumbling block in Eobard’s goal to make a loyal apprentice out of Barry. Any mention of her gave Eobard an expression like he was a child, being reminded of the mutilated rabbit he’d cut to pieces out of curiosity. No remorse, just aggravation that something so inconvenient was still bothering his life. Murdering Barry’s mother. Murdering _Nora_.

"You won't even fight with us," Barry said, rage boiling his chest.

"Yes, it's called being a general," Eobard said with a smirk, "run, Barry, run."

Barry had one of those moments, where his body responded to the call of his instincts before he truly understood it. He had rushed forward and had a moving fist pushed aside by Eobard before he'd truly been aware he'd moved.

Eobard knocked his fist to the side with his forearm, and when Barry's balance stumbled for an instant, he grabbed the arm, pulled Barry down, and turned him. Eobard's arm wrapped around Barry and in a second was slammed into his neck. He brought his other arm up to hold the position, keeping Barry stable by his neck.

Uncomfortable, Barry tried to move out but Eobard pulled him back, sharply cutting off Barry's ability to breathe for a terrifying moment. Eobard's chin pressed hard against the side of Barry's neck as he held him steady.

"Let's not forget who the faster one of us is," Eobard said softly.

"Let-" Barry said, and his voice was cut off by a painful jerk from Eobard.

"I truly don't know what to do with you," Eobard mused, his voice as calm and quiet as his grip was violent, "here I want to be your teacher, your mentor, and you keep..." he continued, voice turning to a growl, " _frustrating_ me. But there's more than one way to break a horse."

"Just wait until-" Barry started to say.

"Let's not act like you're going to risk your family's lives," Eobard said, with a condescending chuckle, "or _that_ woman in particular. What is she now to you? Your sister? You'd better be sure to kill of this Black Hand, Barry, because I just don't know what I'll do to her if I'm disappointed."

“You’re a coward.” Barry suddenly felt exhausted, and in every inch of his bones, he felt a simple, stupid truth resonate: “I wish you were dead.”

"I am intelligent _, far more_ so then _anyone_ in your time period can even imagine," Eobard corrected.

"You're a coward, and you'll never be the Flash."

"Is that right?" Eobard snarled at his ear.

"You're a _violent psychopath_ and you'll _never_ be a hero," Barry told him.

"And what about that little pet of yours," Eobard said, enunciating each syllable harshly but his voice low as a whisper, "a killer, thief, someone who's _never_ contributed a thing to society and who never has in _any_ timeline. Somehow, he's gained your little, _insignificant_ _stamp of approval_ but 'ole me is a parasite."

Barry came to a realization, an incredibly anticlimactic one, and said, "If my approval was insignificant to you, you wouldn't be so obsessed with me. You _want_ me to like you."

"No," Eobard said, sweetly, "I want you to _worship me._ And you _did_ , Barry. And you _will_ again. It's _as inevitable_ as seconds ticking by. As inevitable as _sand_ _shifting_ endlessly on the beach. As inevitable as the Speed _Force_. I _am_ the Reverse. I am _everything_ you'll spend your life striving to achieve. I'm _God_ to you, like a _modern man_ to a _Homo habilis_. And you? _You_ are the _Flash_ ," and Eobard let Barry go, giving him a slight push with his arms to set Barry stumbling forward, "and you _will_ start acting like it."

"I can't _act_ like someone I already am," Barry snapped, "you're delusional, you're-"

Eobard glanced up as something in his suit pocket buzzed.

Damn, Barry had to take a double take at that. It sounded like a phone, when Eobard stepped back, using speed to glance at the object, an old pager just like the type Barry's father used to have.

"Looks like you should go back," Eobard said, calmly, holding out a hand with a green power ring in the palm, "my troops are waiting."

* * *

Barry ran back to the lot after giving Hal his ring. He saw Shawna standing beside Mark and Grodd. He skidded to a stop, calling out, "How long?"

"There's a horde at the I-70," Shawna answered.

Barry turned, about to run to Len, and then stopped before he did, a sudden turn. "Shawna," he said, prompting Mark and her to look up from the gun Mark was loading for her, "I can run you far away from here. Put you in an apartment, with plenty of supplies, so you can wait this out. You don't need to fight."

Mark looked at Shawna, not saying anything. Shawna's head was down, frowning, but she raised it with a determined look in her eye. "If Mark died because I couldn't save him, this family'd be dead anyway. I can't chance that," she said, "I'm sure Iris would have a gun in her hand if she were here, and _I'm_ the metahuman." She tried a smile, "Can't let a human-typical show us metas up, right?"

Barry just opened his mouth to tell her to 'Be safe, call for me if you need me' when Mark kissed her. He waited a moment, for them to finish, but then that kiss lasted longer. To the point where he gave up, and sped his way toward Len.

He needed a moment, anything, in time to have a breath of air and to relax. Len was that stabilizer, someone who could hold him and ease him after that conversation with Eobard.

Barry found him at one entrance to the parking lot, standing beside Mick and a huge block of ice barrier. There was a car there, many, set up like a maze all around the edges of the lot. To make it easier for the archers to shoot at the walkers, and for everyone on the floor to pick the creatures off one by one. " _Len_ ," Barry said, with relief, wrapping his arms around Len's middle in a second and pressing his nose into Len's neck.

"Careful," Len said, doing some motion for balance. His left arm reached around Barry to return the hug gently.

Barry fought hard to force himself to relax, bolstered by Len's warmth, and that familiar and nostalgic feeling of the parka under his hands. He heard Len breathe out, sounding strange. Barry reluctantly let go, "So I-" he started to say, then saw the cigarette in Len's hand and felt a sudden rush of annoyance, "for real?"

"It's fine," Len assured. Mick, who was leaning on a parked car farther away from the ice block, chuckled loud enough that Len tossed him a glare.

"You can't smoke, there aren't cancer centers anymore-" Barry started to say.

"It's just a handful of cigs, there's about to be a fight-" Len started.

"'A handful'?" Barry repeated.

Mick, talking loudly from a car over, jumped in with, "He doesn't light up much, Flash."

"Since when do you smoke?" Barry said, ignoring Mick.

"Since juvie," Len said, giving Mick some sort of look that Barry couldn't interpret.

"Do you... can we..." Barry couldn't quite figure out what he wanted to say.

"Just let me finish this," Len said, "and we concentrate on the fight." Knowingly, Len stepped forward, his left arm urging Barry closer to him. "Where _were_ you?"

"Eobard." Barry said, shooting a glare at the cigarette burning in Len's hand, "He's not coming. He's making us fight the Black Hand while he sits up in a tower."

"Fun," Len said.

Barry sighed, not really able to draw his eyes off Len's hand. "Why did you start smoking again _now_?" He asked, his body suddenly feeling tired, the worst possible feeling he could have before this battle and- he wasn't ready. He wasn't. He wasn't.

"Anxiety," Len answered.

There was a sudden, not a scream, an animalistic, guttural yell. Barry knew immediately that it was Grodd, his entire body shot up with nerves and tension and Len was only half a second behind. There it was. Not a moment left to prepare. The chance Barry'd been wanting since this entire horrorshow started.

Len stepped closer to his side as Barry reached out to grip Len's parka tight, the blue material held fast in his red gloves.


End file.
